Just Another Way to Lose: The 49th Hunger Games
by Janus-Brevett
Summary: When Rory Jordan is reaped for the 49th Hunger Games he has no idea what lies ahead. Follow him on his journey as an ordinary 18-year old district 8 boy is thrust into the killing fields of the Hunger Games.
1. Day 1- The Reaping

**a/n: On HPFF I bombarded people with Author's notes, but as I'm posting this all at once, this will be the only. I can't think of anything to say really, other than I ****hope you enjoy the story & ****please review**

**Oh, and some of the chapters are very very short, just to warn you, as each chapter is one day and some are less eventful than others.**

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**Disclaimer: I own nothing but what comes from mine own brain cells**

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**Day 1- The Reaping**

Life isn't easy in district 8. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't spent most of my life complaining about something, or at least wishing for something more. But right now I'd give anything to go back there, despite the fact that I'm lying in a luxuriously comfortable bed. For the first time in my life I've got hot running water and more food than I can eat within reach. But I just want to be back in the smoggy, freezing district 8, working long shifts in the factory. Why? Because, I, Rory Jordan, have been chosen to participate in the 49th annual Hunger Games. Good food and a comfy bed somehow seem a bit hollow when you've just said goodbye to your family, almost certainly for good.

As I hear Iulia's high pitched voice trying to start up a conversation, noting there doesn't appear to be any reply from Tamla or Woof, my mind drifts back to the events of earlier, reliving them for what is not the first time, and I'm sure won't be the last.

**Earlier that day...**

_The clock in the square edges past four-twenty as Mayor Kendrick prattles on with the usual speech about why the Hunger Games happen, to remind the districts that they are at the mercy of the Capitol. Eventually he finishes and introduces old Woof, as he does every year, and then the district's escort, a Capitol woman called Iulia Chintz. Woof Craffen was district 8's only ever winner, having won years and years ago. He is now in his 60's and has been mentoring district 8 tributes for over 40 years. I suddenly feel queasy as I realise that means he's got to know a good 80 or 90 kids, only for every single one to die on him, and when I say die, I normally mean killed. Suddenly I'm jerked back to reality by Iulia's grating squeaky voice._

"_Happy Hunger Games," she squeaks, "and may the odds be ever in your favour. Ladies first!"_

_I tense rigid as her hand swirls around inside the huge glass ball stuffed with paper name slips. My sister, Kay, out of my sight despite me craning my neck, is about as safe as she could be, but she's thirteen. And there's not a single kid between twelve and eighteen living in district eight right now who isn't at some risk._

_I feel horribly guilty as the name Tamla Pretton is read out and my first feeling is relief. I don't recognise the slim, if not skinny girl, of at least average height, as she eventually, shakily, steps forward from the group of 17-year olds and heads up to the podium. She fiddles restlessly with her long dark brown hair as she stands to Iulia's side, not knowing where to look._

"_And the boy tribute is…" says Iulia, pausing as she swirls her hand around the selection of papers. I have just enough time for two thoughts to cross my mind as she does so. First is the realisation, re-realisation really, that, at eighteen, if I can just survive this time then I will never be in the reaping again. However, this is immediately followed by the thought that, unlike Kay, I am far from safe. There may be thousands of slips in that sphere, but thirty-five of them are covered in my name._

"_Rory Jordan!" Iulia calls out. For a split second I feel anger at her sounding so excited at announcing someone's doom, before it suddenly hits me that she's just called out my name, and everything else is pushed out by utter, mind-numbing fear._

_She calls my name again, and it takes a gentle touch on the shoulder, I don't see who from, to jolt me into consciousness, and set me off on the horrific walk up to the stage._

"_Do we have any volunteers?" asks Iulia, perfunctorily, once I have reached her side. Not likely, I scoff in my mind, district 8 hasn't had a volunteer in years. "In that case," she continues quickly, "may I introduce our brave tributes- Tamla Pretton and Rory Jordan!"_

_There is the briefest and most half-hearted of applauses before silence falls again. I hear a sniff from my left and a quick glance reveals that Tamla is struggling to hold back tears. I can hardly blame her, though I do find myself worrying that it won't be doing her any favours if she comes across as a weakling._

_The Mayor then reads out the Treaty of Treason, before Tamla and I shake hands with each other and Woof, before the national anthem plays. As I stand rigidly throughout the tune I catch a glimpse of Kay in the crowd, her face pale and tear-streaked, and my own eyes start to burn, but I blink the tears back. I'm not giving up yet. I need to appear strong, so I can get sponsors, allies maybe._

_Eventually we are lead away to individual rooms in the justice building and told that we will have an hour to receive visitors, say our goodbyes. As I wait for my family to arrive I realise that all my sympathy and concern for Tamla is misplaced. If I want to get home, and I do, then she has to die. I certainly don't intend on doing it myself, but I can't allow myself to become attached to her. Could I have a chance? I start to seriously doubt it. I can fight a lot better than most of the boys my age in this district or the other more remote districts. My father taught me to fight with a staff, from the age of about ten, whether in preparation for a potential reaping or just so I could defend myself I don't know, and I'm quite big, about a hundred and eighty pounds and over six feet. But I haven't got the survival skills that the kids from district 12, 11, 10, 9 and 7 might well have, living in more rural districts. And that's not even mentioning the careers. I can only remember watching one hunger games in my lifetime that wasn't won by a career, when a kid called Chaff, from district 11 won four years ago. The kids from districts 1, 2 and 4 are all likely to be volunteers, and heavily trained in combat._

_I'm interrupted from my thoughts by my family arriving. Kay hurls her arms around my waist and sobs into my chest as my parents both wrap their arms around me too, and I find my own tears finally bursting free. It is a good few minutes before any of us are able to speak. As I wipe my eyes dry I managed to extricate myself from the arms, and turn first to Kay, still sniffling._

"_I can't promise I'm coming back Kay," I say to her. "But I promise I'll try my hardest."_

"_You can win," she says, firmly despite her shaking voice. "You can fight, and you're clever and strong."_

"_I'll try," I whisper again, but despite her insistent tone her eyes tell another story. She knows it's a one in a hundred chance that I'll be back._

"_Just don't give up," says my dad. "There's always a chance. Don't give away that you can use a staff in the training, you'll become a target. Don't go for the Cornucopia, you can use any old branch as a staff, you're not fast enough to get away from the bloodbath." My dad through and through, always practical. I simply nod at him, it's too much to really think about all that right now._

"_And don't become someone you're not," chips in my mother, her face pale. "I know you might have to kill, but don't let them change you into a monster."_

"_I won't, I promise," I say, before pulling her into another hug._

"_I love you," she sobs._

_I can feel my tears returning as I reply, "I love you too mom."_

_I share a similar goodbye with Kay, before she pulls away, realising something. "You have to take a token!" she exclaims._

"_It's not important," I mutter, but she insistently presses the wooden charm she wears around her neck into my hands._

"_Wear it," she says. "Whenever you're feeling down you can use it to remind yourself of family. That you're fighting to come back to us."_

_This sets my mother off crying again, and I hold her and Kay again, before eventually freeing myself. "You should go," I say. "Let's not drag this out. It'll only make it hurt more."  
_

_They seem to understand and leave after a final goodbye. My dad is last to leave, pulling me into a hug in the doorway. "I love you son," he says, his voice cracking a little._

"_I love you too dad," I reply. "I'll try to make you proud."_

"_Just try to come back," he says. Then finally, as the peacekeeper shuts the door behind him. "Good luck Rory."_

"_I'll need more than luck…" I mutter to myself, fingering my token. It's a simple wooden rectangle, with a beautiful pattern engraved onto it. It's been in my mom's family for years…It'll probably never get back to them, I think, before scolding myself. I don't have to be unrealistically optimistic, but I should at least try and banish those negative thoughts, or I'll be dead before I've even started._

_Eventually I'm led away, reunited with Tamla as we are driven to the train station and shown to our luxurious rooms on the train. Woof is nowhere to be seen yet, and we both ignore Iulia's attempts to make conversation, instead hiding in our rooms until he are called for dinner. Despite feeling sick to the pit of my stomach, I can't turn down the food, I need to keep my strength up, and I have to admit it does taste amazing. After an almost silent dinner with Iulia, Tamla and Woof, I excuse myself to my thoughts for a few minutes._

**Back in the present...**

"So we gonna watch the replays of the reapings?" I say to Tamla as I return to the dining carriage, trying not to sound too friendly.

"I guess," she murmurs. Woof sets the TV up and sits alongside us as we prepare to see our opponents.

I make an effort to try and remember as many names as I can, maybe calling people by their actual names instead of just their district number could unnerve people. Both of the district one tributes are volunteers, and don't appear to have any connection to those originally reaped. They just want the honour of fighting in the games.

First comes a tall girl called Jade, who is beautiful in a classic district one way, but also in a deadly-looking way, with narrow green eyes and pristine long blonde hair. The boy, Silver, is also blonde, marginally shorter than Jade but more powerfully built, though still slim.

In district two a girl named Cleo volunteers first. She grins wickedly as she stands on the stage, looking lithe and, I have to admit, very pretty, with piercing blue eyes and dark brown hair braided around her head. The boy is surprisingly not a volunteer, but as I look at him walking up I imagine that he probably would have been had he not been picked. He is only slightly taller than Cleo, and can't be as tall as either of the district one tributes, but must be 200 pounds, thick-shouldered and dead-eyed. His name is Varro.

Next up is district three, traditionally a district where the tributes either fail miserably, or do very well. They are rarely much fighters, but the skills with engineering and electronics they've obtained in the factories of three sometimes help them. I can't help but feel the two chosen won't be much threat however. Horribly, a tiny girl who can be fourteen at the most, called Coulette, looking like she's about to pass out is called first, followed by an older boy of average height called Alecto, who is skinny, sickly-looking, and terribly nervous.

In district four, the final career district, there are two more volunteers. A girl called Shayla, skinny and red-haired, but with a dangerous glint in her eyes is followed by a powerful, fairly tall, blonde-haired boy called Perrin, smiling and waving to the crowd the whole way.

In district 5 both tributes can only be about 5 and a half foot. A small girl, probably 16 or 17 called Kyla is followed by a boy, Barr, who is more built but barely taller and looks younger, and certainly isn't muscular by the standards of the career districts.

Some drama follows in district six, as Zianna, a slim girl of average height, with pretty red-blonde hair bravely strides up, though I can see her lip quivering, before a young boy starts to head forward only for a booming yell of "I volunteer," to stop him as his older brother, Mitro, strides up. He looks like a slightly fiercer and more powerful version of me, and stands on the stage looking determined.

In district 7, Fern, a slight girl, emerges from a crowd of much taller girls. I assume she must be eighteen, just short. She is very pretty too, with dark blonde hair falling around her shoulders and deep brown eyes, which stare determinedly forward as I find myself admiring her spirit. Her counterpart is another eighteen year-old, a huge boy called Grove who looks even bigger than Varro. I wonder whether it's just standing next to the tiny Fern, but he looks like he must be six and a half feet. He looks resigned and disappointed when called up, but doesn't show any fear.

After initially appearing that the careers would have no opposition the standard looks like it may actually be quite high. I certainly wouldn't want to get in a fight with Mitro or Grove, and there's something about Fern which suggests she's not going to be a pushover for anyone either. Watching the recap of our reaping I am happy that I don't give any emotion away, though I'm feeling less confident about my hand-to-hand fighting skills compared to the other boys.

From district 9 a pampered-looking girl, Clarissa, is called up, and has to be virtually dragged to the stage, in tears. When calm is restored a kid called Jonathan is reaped. He is as tall as Clarissa, but skinnier, and looks much younger, only twelve or thirteen I would guess.

Next is district 10, a little red-haired girl wipes away tears as she bravely strides up, her name is Amelia and she can't be even five foot. She is followed by a strapping eighteen-year old called Carson, with a sad look and lanky, longish, black hair, who must be taller than me, and definitely a good twenty pounds heavier.

In district 11 a tiny dark-skinned girl, though judging from the group she comes from more like fifteen or sixteen than the thirteen or so she looks is called up. Her name is Cinnamon and she looks determinedly down at the stage as a boy called Jeremiah follows. He is another giant, I think despairingly, though much skinnier than Mitro or Carson, with shaved black hair and anger in his eyes, saved for the comforting look he gives Cinnamon.

District 12 rounds the process off, and they don't appear to have gotten lucky. The girl, Daisy, is probably eighteen, skinny, blonde haired and blue-eyed but much plainer-looking than the district one tributes and looks weak and bony, like she hasn't had enough to eat her whole life, which is probably true. The boy, Syme, is only fourteen, I think, and a bit more strongly built, but doesn't look like he'd stand a prayer in a fight with even me, never mind many of the others.

"It's awful, I know," says Woof after a brief silence, "but without wanting to sound too harsh, you've just got to get on with it. You're either going to kill or be killed."

"How do you do this," I ask him, "watch the kids you're mentoring getting killed, year after year?"

"I don't care too much," he replies bluntly. "If I did I'd go insane, so don't expect care or sympathy from me."

"But you will help us?" Tamla asks, her voice shaky.

"I'll try," he grunts. "But history isn't on your side."

Another silence descends over us, and Tamla soon leaves. After it becomes clear Woof isn't going to say anything, and I have no desire to talk to him right now, I decide to follow her. I knock on the door to her compartment, and after a slightly puzzled-sounding "Come in," I enter.

"Oh, it's you," she says neutrally.

"Want to talk?" I ask. When she says nothing, I continue. "Look, I have no intention of killing you. Quite aside from the fact that you don't deserve to die, I figure if I can't win then best you do, for the district."

"I can't win," she says, tears pooling in her eyes. "At least you're strong, I've got nothing to use."

"Please," I scoff, "I thought maybe the careers would be tougher than me, but there were three other giants in there too. Any one of them would murder me in a fight. Besides, they'll have weapons."

"So what's the point then?" she asked, not looking at me.

"That you never know what'll happen in the arena," I say with a shrug. "The careers could all be killed off by a fire, or a flood, or mutts, or each other."

"I couldn't kill anyone," she says, quietly but forcefully.

"I think maybe you could," I say, "if it was you or them. If it was self-defence. Besides, maybe we should concentrate on staying alive first."

"We?" she says quizzically.

"Look," I reply with a sigh, "you're not my friend, I'm not going to lie and say I'll never get over it if you die. But two heads are better than one, and I want you to win if I can't. So I'll do what I can to keep you alive in there."

"What if we were the last two?" she asks. "Would you kill me then?"

"That's so unlikely," I say. "But no. I don't think I could. I guess the Gamemakers would send stuff to kill us, and one of us would fall first."

"So you want to be allies?" she asks, her tears having faded away.

"Yeah, I guess," I reply. "If you want to."

"I think I'd be stupid to turn it down," she says.

A minute or two of silence passes between us, before I ask her, "So how many entries did you have?"

"Twenty-four," she replies. "My parents wouldn't let me take tesserae for them, but I took them for myself and my two little brothers. What about you?"

"Thirty-five," I say, "Myself, my parents and my sister."

She breaks the next silence, by saying "I think we should get some sleep."

"You're right," I agree, heading back to the door. "Goodnight Tamla."

"Goodnight Rory. Thanks for being nice."

I just nod at her and then head back to my own room. Nice. That's a great characteristic for someone to have going into a fight to death. Nevertheless I drift off to a fitful sleep with the underlying feeling that I have done the right thing.


	2. Day 2- The Opening Ceremony

**Day 2- The Opening Ceremony**

"You haven't reconsidered what you said last night have you?" asks Tamla over breakfast. "I really haven't got any skills that could help in the arena. I could really hinder you."

"No," I say. "Besides, don't get ahead of yourself, we have to both get away from the bloodbath and find each other again first."

"What's this?" asks Woof, joining us at the table.

"We're going to be allies," says Tamla, with a half-hearted smile.

Woof simply shrugs and makes a 'hmm' noise that seems to suggest he's okay with that. "I guess you want to be coached together then?"

"Yes," we both say.

"Okay then," he says. "What have you got to work with, what skills have you got? Anything- can you climb, run, swim, fight, throw, think?"

"I guess I can run okay," says Tamla nervously.

Woof nods. "Good. That may well be your best asset in there. Just try out all weapons in training. If you can become familiar with any of them that will help a lot. But definitely learn camouflage and knots and traps too. You're not going to win with strength. What about you?" he addresses me.

"I can fight with a staff," I say.

"Well that's interesting," says Woof. "Where'd you learn that?"

"My dad taught me. But the other guys are nearly all much bigger and stronger."

"Bigger doesn't equal stronger," he replies firmly. "And stronger doesn't equal better at fighting. If you can fight properly with a staff then you'll be quick. Maybe not at running, but when fighting. Some of those giants are probably as slow as anything. And if you can fight with a staff then you'll probably adapt to a spear or maybe even a sword. Can you run fast?"

"No," I reply honestly.

"Well stay away from the cornucopia too," he says. "Maybe just try and get a knife if you can, to make a staff. That's if there are trees."

"I'm screwed if there aren't, I say.

"Those are often nasty ones," Woof agrees. "Don't give away to anyone that you can fight properly in training though."

"My dad said the same," I recall.

"Smart man," says Woof. "But you should try and look as strong as you can without giving your secret up, come across as mediocre, not weak, but not a real threat, that might help you avoid the careers initially."

"Got any general tips?" I ask him, "for surviving?"

He ponders this for a second. "Get water as soon as you can, remember where it is, use something as a landmark. Don't stay in one place unless you're sure you're hidden. Try and sleep in a cave or tree if you can, or under bushes or rocks. Don't light a fire that'll give your position away, if you need one then keep it small and put it out with dirt or sand, not water. Try and use high ground to get an idea of the layout of the arena, but only if there is some and you sure you can get away easily. Learn as much as you can in the training centre about edible food. Pay attention to animals if there are any, where are they getting their water? What foods do they eat, what foods don't they eat. Stay alert for gamemaker traps, especially if no-one's died in a while…oh, and whatever you don't step off your podium before the sixty seconds are up."

We spend the next few hours discussing everything. Strategy, Woof's thought's about some of the other tributes, his knowledge of their mentors. What to expect in the next few days, things that have happened in previous games, what arenas have been like, any guesses or suspicions he has about this year's event.

"Well," he says as we pass through the tunnel under the mountains the will emerge in the Capitol, "once we're out of this tunnel you'll be whisked away from me for a bit, so my final pieces of advice for now are this. One, never takes things at face value in the arena. The careers are all allies? They're plotting to stab each other in the back. The animals are really cute? They're probably vicious and poisonous. You get my point." We nod solemnly. "And second, and this is important, you'll be taken to the remake centre now. Don't argue, just let them do their stuff. Your prep team and stylist will see you naked. Deal with it."

Tamla and I shoot each other a nervous glance, before the train bursts back into the sunlight. "Well I'll leave you now," says Woof. "I'll see you in the training centre this evening."

We don't say goodbye to him, we are both to busy staring out of the windows. The Capitol, as much as I hate it for treating us like it does, is impressive to look at. Eventually, about fifteen minutes later we pull in at the station and are lead away by peacekeepers, past cheering crowds, to the remake centre. "Good luck." I say to Tamla before we are taken in separate directions.

My prep team introduce themselves as Fabricius, Tullia and Aquilina and spend over two hours, cleaning me and smartening me until I'm more 'presentable' than I've been in my entire life.

Eventually I'm taken to meet my stylist, Rogellus, who studies my naked body for a few minutes, before handing me a robe and motioning me to follow him. Rogellus is probably about forty, though it's fairly hard to tell, given the amount of makeup he has on. His hair is bright yellow, slicked back and his face is adorned with more yellow, in the form of tattoos and piercings.

"So, Rory," he begins as food appears all around us. "What's your angle."

"Sorry?" I say, not quite understanding what he means.

"How can I present you?" he asks. "Are you the strong silent type, are you friendly, are you brooding, are you determined, are you a vicious killer? I need a costume to match the personality you send out in the opening ceremony."

"Erm…I guess determined?" I say hesitantly. "I'm not much of a fighter, but I'm not a weakling. I'm going to try my hardest."

"Indeed," says Rogellus. "So something strong…"

He spends a lot of time musing to himself as we eat over the next twenty minutes, occasionally posing a question to me, before we're done eating and he leads me to a room where he tries several costumes on me, before eventually settling on a surprisingly simple-looking costume. It is made of several luxurious fabrics, symbolising the trade of district 8- textiles- and takes the form of a long-sleeved tunic over pants, with the whole outfit threaded with gold and silver.

I am lead to the stables where I see the other tributes in the flesh for the first time. Glancing around the variation between them strikes me. It seems unbelievable that the powerful figures of Silver, Jade, Varro, Perrin, Mitro, Grove, Carson and Jeremiah, can be in the same fight as the tiny figures of Cinnamon, Amelia, Jonathan, Fern, Kyla, Barr and Coulette are.

My observations, already unsettled by a vicious glare from Silver, are broken when Tamla arrives beside me, with her stylist, a slightly younger man than Rogellus I think, loitering behind her.

"Hey," she says, quietly. The noises the horses are making, the quiet chatter of some stylists and the distant roar of the crowd are the only noises audible at the moment. All the other tributes, while stood in pairs, are not speaking to each other.

"Hey," I reply equally quietly.

"How do I look?" she asks worriedly, with a grin. I smile cautiously back. It's good to see that while I doubt she's banished her fear, at least she's able to push it to one side.

I seize her up. She's in the same outfit as me, but more heavily made up, with gold lipstick and heavily coloured eyelids and lashes. I decide to answer honestly. "Unnatural."

Happily, she doesn't take offence. "I feel it," she says.

As we take our cue from the other tributes and start climbing onto our chariot, Rogellus and Tamla's stylist approach. "Your mentor has informed me that the two of you are going to be allies," says Rogellus. "You should play on that to try and stand out. District 8 often has trouble doing that. Don't hold hands or anything to familiar, but most of the tributes will be ignoring each other. Maybe stand shoulder-to-shoulder, or back-to-back and acknowledge each other with a glance or two. Don't smile or wave to the crowd, unless you feel you can really keep up the friendly, happy angle in your interviews. Just stare forward and look strong. And definitely try not to look awed."

We simply nod in agreement, trying to take it all in, before the music starts blaring, quickly followed by the horses being set off. Our stylists wish us good luck, before we're gone, off into the city. We do exactly as Rogellus asked during the ride to City Circle, before eventually pulling to a stop as the anthem plays. Judging from the giant TV screens we seem to be getting our fair share of airtime as President Snow makes his speech, which I don't take in at all.

Eventually we are led into the training centre, and head to our quarters, on the eighth floor of course. Tamla's stylist, Marcius, is already there along with Rogellus, Iulia and Woof. After we are congratulated on a good performance during the parade we change out of our costumes into some of the simplest clothes in our amply stocked wardrobes, and when she re-emerges from her room Tamla has also discarded her makeup.

I shoot her the briefest of smiles as we sit opposite each other at the dinner table. We eat only a fairly small amount, while discussing more about the parade, the other tributes and the upcoming events, before Tamla and I excuse ourselves. As I have a steaming shower, for the first time in a while there is nothing to distract my thoughts, and they wander back to my family and my fate. I can't believe that it was only yesterday that I was reaped, it already seems a lifetime ago. I try to sleep, but after several hours that proves impossible, so to try and clear my head I head out to the balcony off the main room. Everyone is in bed now, and the quiet is eerie. Deciding there's nothing to do but try again to sleep I return to my room, passing Tamla's door as I do so. Hearing something I pause for a moment, to realise that she is crying. Quite loudly. My hand hovers near the doorknob for a moment, before I turn away and return to my room. We can't both survive, we can't both survive…I try and drum into my head as I try to reinforce my earlier thought that while I can try and help her, I really shouldn't become too attached. But my thoughts only drift to all the other tributes, and I find myself imagining their families, every bit as desperate for them to come home as mine are for me to return, and my hatred for this whole situation bubbles to the surface again, and I cry myself into a fitful sleep, interrupted by nightmares.


	3. Day 3- Training (Day 1)

**Day 3- Training (Day 1)**

I wake early the next morning, and head out for breakfast to find Woof sat alone. He attempts to make conversation, but I am still angry and sullen, and he quickly gives up. Tamla's arrival, about an hour later, lifts my spirits, as she has managed to somehow recover from her night to arrive with a smile, albeit a slightly weak one, on her face.

After everyone has eaten we run over strategy with Woof for the final time. He advises us to stay clear of the careers, and the weakest tributes, but leaves us free to interact how we like with anyone else, assuming the careers don't get to them first. He reminds us what stations to concentrate on, and for me to hide my fighting technique, before we change into our training jumpsuits and head down to the gym.

After a short introductory talk from the lead supervisor, a scarred, bearded man, we are free to start training.

We start off with some of the quieter stations; camouflage and knots, which takes us up to lunch. Each district eats alone, seizing each other up, except for the careers, who immediately make their intentions perfectly clear, the six of them sitting together, talking and laughing throughout the meal.

As we move onto the climbing area after lunch, something at which I am a bit better than I realised, I make sure to keep an eye on the careers. Woof said that generally stronger tributes show off their best skills, to try and intimidate others, while weaker ones hide them to stay mysterious.

It doesn't prove a move that does much for my morale however. Silver, the district one boy, seems to prefer to fight with a long knife rather than a sword, and it moves so fast in his hand that it's a blur. Varro on the other hand does use a sword, with incredible power, and is not as slow as his size makes him look. Perrin, the district four boy, is mainly using a spear, and can throw it with deadly accuracy, use it like a staff, or amazingly given its length, almost like a sword. Cleo, and especially Shayla, are peppering dummies full of arrows, and while both are a similar height to Tamla, I can now see they are considerably stronger, Cleo, especially. She is also handy with a knife and even a short sword. It's Jade, however, the district one girl, who strikes particular fear into me. She is easily the most powerful girl, tall and muscular, and seems to specialise in hand-to-hand fighting. She easily takes down male assistants much larger than her, with a stunning array of kicks, holds, punches and jumps. And just when I'm thinking how it won't help her much against a bow or thrown spear, she collects something from another station, quite near us. Her hand flicks five times in about two seconds, and five four-bladed stars bury themselves in a dummy; one in each hand, one in the chest, and two in the head. I am unable to stop my jaw dropping, and she sees. Smirking at me as she pulls them out of the dummy, she say in a patronising yet menacing voice, "They're called shuriken." She then proceeds to repeat the trick, sometimes even throwing without looking, or with both arms at once.

Looking away and trying to clear my head, I suggest to Tamla, perched agilely on top of the climbing apparatus, that we move on to traps and edible foods. Those are two stations that I'll have to really concentrate on, and hopefully that'll stop me imagining all the different ways Jade could kill me. We decide to start with traps, which is empty, but shortly after we start I sense someone approaching.

"Hi…it's Rory isn't it? And Tara?" comes a female voice from behind me. It sounds friendly, which surprises me, and I turn round to see Fern, the girl tribute from district 7.

"Tamla," comes the correction from my side.

"Oh sorry," says Fern. Her voice is chirpy but quiet, although she does seem a little nervous. "Grove's not talking to me," she says, gesturing to her enormous district partner, practicing swinging a huge two-handed axe. "Is it okay if I join you guys?"

She seems so genuine and friendly that I say 'yes' out of sheer surprise, before I even really think about it. She beams back at me and Tamla gives me a shrug, looking half-amused and half-confused, as I catch her eye.

We spend the rest of the afternoon with Fern, moving on to edible foods next, which it turns out she is already good at, and more than willing to help us, before ending the day with a little bit of weapon training. We each have a go with knives and spears, while I also try out a large sword, axe and mace, each of which are two heavy for the girls to have a chance of wielding properly. I find that whilst I'm far from fluid I can handle them well enough, and that, as well as the beaming smile Fern gives me as she leaves, means the day's training ends on a high.

Back in the district eight quarters we shower and change before discuss the day's events with Woof over dinner. Rogellus, Marcius and Iulia are also present, and seem keen to offer their advice too, though it's only Woof's that I'm really interested in hearing.

"I think we did a good job of coming across as average," I tell Woof. "We certainly didn't do anything that seemed to especially impress anyone, but we didn't really visibly struggling with anything, or fall or hurt ourselves or anything."

"Not like the poor district nine pair," offers Tamla. I nod in agreement. The girl, Clarissa, never strayed from the food section after lunch and still frequently started sobbing, while the boy, Jonathan, had injured himself trying to use a sword and then fallen off part of the obstacle course, to plenty of laughter from the careers.

"So did anyone else team up with the careers?" asks Rogellus.

I shake my head. "I think they wanted Grove, the giant boy from seven," I explain, "but he just sort of grunted and glared at them and they left him alone."

"The girl from seven wanted to hang out with us," Tamla tells Woof.

"She said he wasn't speaking to her," I embellish.

"Well that's interesting…" ponders Woof. "How did she come across?"

"Friendly," I say. "How do we know if it's genuine or an act?"

"You can only trust your own judgement," he replies somewhat unhelpfully. "Was she good at anything?"

"She's small, and not much good with a knife," I say, "but she knew the edible plants really well, and she's agile and good at climbing."

"And she's decent at trapping too," adds Tamla.

"Hmm," says Woof. "I just get some feeling from watching her that she's more dangerous than she looks. But that could mean she could be a useful ally. If you do manage to form a little group it could make you less vulnerable to the careers picking you off one by one."

"The problem with that is getting into a group though," says Marcius.

"Yes," agrees Woof. "Seeing as the careers will almost certainly secure the cornucopia you will all have to run off in different directions at the start. It will be hard to safely find each other."

After a brief pause to take a hungry bite of pork, Woof speaks again. "So you any good with any weapons?" he asks Tamla.

When she only shrugs in response I answer for her. "She's okay with a knife," I say. "Not amazing, but as good as most people could hope for in their first day."

"Try a bow tomorrow," Woof offers, "both of you. I'm assuming you've never used one?" We both shake our head. "Well there's just the slightest chance then, that you're a natural."


	4. Day 4- Training (Day 2)

**Day 4- Training (Day 2)**

The next morning we're back at the training centre and team up with Fern again. It turns out we are not naturals with a bow. We're horrible. I send my first arrow into the target, but my next ten or so way wide, while Tamla can barely even draw even the smallest one. We decide to stop before we embarrass ourselves too much. Fern, amused at our failure, but also sympathetic afterwards, decides not to attempt archery at all.

Next Tamla and I explain our arrangement to Fern and formally ask her for an alliance. I'm almost certain her delighted expression is genuine and the thought that we might not be alone in there is comforting, as long as we don't think about how only one person survives. We return to camouflage, climbing, food, knots and traps during the day, and again finish with weapons. It might seem really weird, but I genuinely enjoy the day. I push what's coming up to the back of my mind, which takes effort, but I do manage it. It's as if I'm just hanging out with Tamla and Fern, doing this for fun. I quickly decide but for the circumstances we'd be good friends, before correcting myself, as with a hint of resignation I realise we already are. I also have to admit I find Fern very pretty. Without realising it I find myself staring at her when she's not looking. I'm sure Tamla notices, but I hope she'll put it down to me being impressed with Fern's skills with knots and snares.

We overhear at lunch that the district 11 boy, Jeremiah, had his name in the reaping one hundred and fourteen times, and cautiously approach him for an alliance. He is non-committal, but I suppose that's better than being aggressive or laughing at us. Mitro and Carson are not interested in speaking to us at all however, and Grove is just too damn scary for us to even consider it. I do have one little victory during the day, when I call the district four boy, Perrin, by name. He certainly doesn't appear scared or anything, but definitely a little confused, as if he's wondering what hidden skill I've got that makes me brave enough to stand up to him.

I also do my best to try and evaluate everyone in my head during the day. Jade is plain terrifying. Varro, Silver, Perrin and Cleo are all excellent fighters. Shayla is probably the weakest career. She's a bloody good shot with a bow, but doesn't have anything to fall back on really; she doesn't seem tough like the others. Clarissa and Jonathan from district 9 won't last five minutes, and there doesn't seem to be anything special about Daisy and Syme from 12 or Kyla and Barr from 5 either. Grove is strong and scary, but doesn't give anything else away. Amelia and Coulette, the two young girls from 10 and 3 are doomed too, I'd say, whereas at least the last two girls, Zianna from 6 and Cinnamon from 11 seem agile, brave and like they could at least survive in the arena, if not in a fight. Carson, from 10 seems like a decent fighter, no more no less, while Mitro from six, the one who volunteered for his little brother, is starting to seem a little unhinged. I get the feeling he's too angry to actually fight well. Alecto, the boy from 3 is definitely intelligent but he's so nervous I can imagine him jumping off the podium early or something equally stupid. That leaves Jeremiah, who is spending a lot of time at the survival stations, and comes across as a bit of a gentle giant.

As Tamla and I head back up in the elevator after we're finished, I break the silence by saying to her. "I don't think I can kill that girl…"

"Fern?" Tamla asks unnecessarily, as it's obvious who I mean. "Just because you have a crush on her," she comments offhandedly. "I saw you."

"What!" I exclaim, "No I don't!" But the blush that I am powerless to stop rising on my cheeks gives me away.

Tamla notices. "Oh my god! You actually do!" she says, her eyes wide. "I was only joking! You realise how wildly unhelpful and inappropriate that is?"

"You think I don't know that!" I shout, suddenly angry. At Tamla for sticking her nose in, at myself for being such a fool, at Fern for being so likeable, at the Capitol for doing this to us all. As the lift reaches are floor I storm out and head straight for my room.

"Rory!" Tamla calls pleadingly after me, but I just yell back for her to get lost, then yell worse at Woof as he enquires what's going on. Slamming the door behind me, and locking it I curse everything for a good five minutes. As my rage starts to clear I feel guilty for shouting at Tamla and stupid for shouting at Woof. I need him, he's the only one that can get anything to us once we're in the arena, and while he's hardly friendly he's been as helpful as could be. I'm only hurting myself if I hack him off. I give myself a few more minutes to cool off and then head out to apologise to both of them. They accept, though Woof is still a little gruffer with me than before. I'm very grateful for Tamla not broaching the subject again, and we go through dinner with little conversation before I head back to my room early.


	5. Day 5- Training Day 3 and Scores

**Day 5- Final Training Day and Training Scores**

The next day we start off with weapons training again, before concentrating on fire and shelter making for most of the morning. I excuse myself from the girls at about 11:30, wishing them luck for their individual session with the gamemakers, and wanting a bit of time alone before mine. I finish the training experience with a quick once-over of some wrestling and hand-to-hand fighting techniques, that I'll never master, but could be useful to at least have an idea of.

I sit alone for lunch as the tributes are steadily called away for their sessions, boy then girl, in district order. The scores are from one to twelve, and can help determine how much of a threat you are in the eyes of the opponents and also how attractive you are to sponsors. People have occasionally deliberately underperformed to get a low score so people don't think they're a threat, though this can be a risky tactic as sometimes the careers like to start off with the easy targets and work their way up.

As I pick at my food I glance up and see Tamla and Fern chatting away. I'm sure they're talking about me; I just hope Tamla's not mentioned our conversation last night. Eventually Fern is called out, and we acknowledge each other as she passes me with a nod that says 'good luck'.

I'm next, and give Tamla what I hope is a reassuring smile as I leave. The head gamemaker says hello and tells me to just get on with whatever I'm going to do- I'll be dismissed when my time is up or they've seen enough. I immediately head over the weapons station and grab a staff. Seeing as I'm not allowed to fight with anyone, I just try and show off, twirling and spinning the staff, switching it from hand to hand, a trick that I have been known to mess up, but pull off here, and giving the dummies a few good whacks too. After I few minutes I'm dismissed, not feeling like I've done anything special, but not knowing what more I could have done.

I head back upstairs and Tamla soon joins us. Rogellus, Marius, Iulia and even Woof seen eager to hear what we did and how we think we did, and I get the feeling that I'm only just understanding how important these scores are. Tamla reveals that she concentrated on showing her agility with climbing and the obstacle course, but is worried that she's really cost herself by falling a couple of times.

That evening the scores are televised live, flashed up below a picture of each of us and called out by Claudius Templesmith, the Games' announcer.

"Here we go…" I whisper before the scores start appearing.

Silver scores 10

Jade, 11

Varro, 11

Cleo, 10

Nothing so far to surprise anyone, I think.

Alecto scores 5, which makes me wonder what he showed them.

Coulette, 4, not as bad as I might have thought.

Perrin, another 10

Shayla, 9- I almost feel sorry for her. She's been marked as the weakest career, and will lose sponsors for that. The other careers will also probably be waiting to ditch her as soon as the field is weakened sufficiently.

Barr, 3, unsurprisingly

Kyla, 5- I again find myself wondering what she did. 5 is pretty average, and I certainly wouldn't have been generous enough to call her average in my own analysis.

Mitro, 7- decent but not amazing

Zianna, 5

Grove, 9! Wow! I knew he was big and strong, but he'd have to have shown more than that to get that score.

And suddenly I realise it's Fern's turn. She scores 6, and I allow myself a smile. That's alright; she's scored better than anyone else who didn't use a weapon at least.

I'm so busy, silently congratulating Fern I completely forget it's me next, and almost miss my score. It's 8. It's 8! Everyone is excitedly congratulating me and patting me on the back. Eight! It's only one less than a career! I might just get some sponsors yet.

Suddenly the mood in the room plummets. Tamla has scored 4. She gives a cry of disappointment and appears to start to get up, but I grab her arm and pull her back down. Feeling a surge of concern and sympathy for her I put my arm round her shoulders. "It'll be okay," I say.

"I really shouldn't worry too much," says Marcius. "The difference between a lower scores isn't that big. As long as it's not a one or a two they tend to get lost in all the attention given to the top scores."

She sniffs, and nods, forcing a smile onto her face. "Thanks," she says, mainly, I think, to me.

The scores don't relent. Jonathan gets 4 too

Clarissa, unsurprisingly scores 1. "Poor girl," Iulia comments and we all nod in sombre agreement.

Carson gets 7, and I feel a surge of hope that I've scored more than him, considering how much brawnier than me he looks.

Poor little Amelia gets 2

For a second I think someone else has scored 1, before I look properly. It's Jeremiah, the tall boy from district 11 who didn't go near a weapons station the whole time. He's scored 10. I think back to our talk with, or more at, him earlier- if we could get him as an ally we might stand a real chance of one us winning.

Cinnamon scores 5

Syme gets 5 too

And Daisy gets just 2

And it's over. Everyone's been scored. I count quickly in my head. I'm 9th out of 24. Maybe just high enough to attract some attention from sponsors.

We head to bed soon after eating dinner, though Rogellus and Iulia want to keep drinking toasts to my excellent score, in reality I think they just want to drink, and mainly out of sympathy for Tamla, I head off to bed early too.


	6. Day 6- Interview Coaching

**Day 6- Interview Coaching**

The next day it feels weird to not have training, it feels like we've been doing it for a lot more than just the past two-and-a-half days. I decided to sneak as much of a lie-in as I can manage, before Iulia yells at me to get us. She needn't bother, as getting up is a small price to pay to shut her annoying voice up. Unfortunately I have to learn to deal with it, as Tamla and I spend half the day with her, being coached on 'presentation' for our interview the next evening. The other half is spent with Woof, deciding on how we're going to try and come across. It isn't much more exciting, and I find myself frustrated by Woof's insistence on practicing questions and answers when we can't predict what we'll be asked, but we at least get somewhere in the end. I decide to try and lead with my determination to get home to my family and, at my insistence, my desire not to kill any more than I have to. Woof insists that this could cost me sponsors, as some of the rich viewers are 'a bloodthirsty bunch', but I refuse to act that cold-blooded, even if it is just for show, and do convince Woof that doing so might make me more of a target for the careers. Tamla knows she isn't going to gain anything from acting tough, and willingly admits she couldn't pull off alluring or seductive, so decides to go for a mixture of vulnerable, sweet and cheerful, knowing the latter will be the hardest to pull off.


	7. Day 7- Interviews

**Day 7- Interviews**

We again get a fairly early night, having discussed the interviews to death and been tired out by doing so. The next day, our fifth at the training centre, is spent preparing, or rather being prepared, for the interviews. I am dressed in a black and green suit, which honestly looks better than it sounds, while Tamla is given a plain yet elegant cream coloured dress, modest, but not overly so.

Before we know it we're waiting for our interviews with Caesar Flickerman, the long-time host of all important interviews on the Capitol television. We sit in a waiting area behind the stage with Woof, Iulia, Rogellus and Marcius and are provided with a TV screen so we can watch the other tributes interviews.

They only last three minutes and seem to fly by. I marvel at how Flickerman changes tone so quickly and effortlessly, from bantering to reassuring, from thoughtful listening to probing questioning.

Jade goes first and is a sponsor-winning combination of tough and determined and very sexy. Silver is chatty, confident and funny, but with a scary edge, while Cleo is determined to bring her family honour. Varro is gruff and tough, not speaking much, but giving off an air of bloodthirstiness.

Coulette surprises me, saying she might be small but she's clever and will be hard to catch, and isn't scared of killing anyone. Alecto is nervy, though Caesar manages to even put him at ease a little, and they chat about how he hopes he can plan his way out of trouble.

Shayla is rather sullen and snarky, 'playing the bad girl' Woof says, while Perrin is a real-crowd pleaser, charming and funny. Kyla is just brutally honest, coming across as very normal, while Barr comes across, I feel awful for thinking, a little bit whiny.

Zianna plays dumb but adorable, I'm sure she's actually more intelligent than she makes out from what I saw of her in training, while Mitro says not much beyond how he's done the important part by saving his brother and will try to kill as many careers as possible, which gets a good cheer but seems doomed to me.

Fern just goes natural, having a really genuine-seeming conversation with Caesar while keeping a defiant confidence about her chances. Grove just grunts 'yes' or 'no' or something equally short to whatever he is asked, and then it's Tamla's turn.

She gets a reasonable round of applause as Caesar announces her to the crowd and acknowledges them before Caesar takes her hand and directs her to her seat.

"So Tamla," he begins, "how are you finding life in the Capitol? I imagine it's quite a change from district 8!"

"It certainly is!" she says, her voice upbeat, "but it's been hard to concentrate on the city too much when we've been so busy with training and styling."

"Of course, of course," he says. "So what do you think of your stylist? Do you like your outfit?"

"Marcius is excellent!" she says, "I love the dress; I think it's really me. It's not too showy."

"But still very pretty," Caesar says flatteringly.

"Thank you," Tamla replies sweetly.

"So if you see yourself as not too showy," he asks, "will that extend into the Games? Do you plan to keep your head down?"

"Well I don't want to give my strategy away," she says with a grin and wink, "but I think you can tell I'm not going to win through brute force."

"So you do believe you can win?" he asks.

"I have to don't I?" she asks, her voice catching a little. Here comes vulnerable, I think with a smile. She's not acting completely, but is exaggerating her emotions just enough. "If I'm not going in there to win then I might as well step off the podium and end it quickly."

The mood of the audience drops and for a second I wonder if she's made a mistake, but she continues, her smile returning, "And I'm hardly going to do that, am I?" and the audience chuckle lightly.

"Of course not!" Caesar says jovially. "Now, can you tell us about your life back home? What are your family like?"

"They're brilliant," she says wistfully, and I don't think she's acting at all now. "My mom and dad have never had much but they've always kept me and my brothers comfortable. We've not gone wanting because my parents work so hard for us."

"That's heartening to hear. And how old are your brothers?"

"Eight and eleven," she says. "I had to look after them quite a lot because of my parents working."

"Well it sounds like you have a wonderful family," says Caesar. "I'm sure they are very proud of you."

"Thank you Caesar," says Tamla.

"Now," says Caesar, his eyes growing serious as he leans forward. "For your individual training you scored a four. Now there were plenty of tributes with similar scores, but it is quite low. Remembering that you aren't supposed to tell us what happened in there, do you think it was a fair score? Do you think it gives an accurate reflection of your potential?"

"I think it probably was fair," she muses, "but I think I could have done better. To be honest," she says with a smile, "I'm not too concerned whether I get a three or a four or a five or a six. I know what I can do and what I can't. If people want to sponsor me they're clever enough to make up their own minds."

"Will you be relying on sponsor gifts?" Caesar asks, "There are some strong contenders out there this year, how do you see yourself beating them?"

"Well the Hunger Games isn't just about fighting," she says. "It's about staying alive in the wilds. And I'm not sure any amount of training can prepare you, seeing how we don't have a clue what the arena will be like."

"Indeed, indeed," he says, "well that is all we have time for I'm afraid, I can only wish you the best of luck. Ladies and Gentlemen, Tamla Pretton, District 8!"

She waves to the crowd and leaves to hearty applause, and I'm up, Iulia sheepherding me in the right direction before leaving me to head up to the stage. I pass Tamla on the way, and she gives me a reassuring smile, and suddenly I'm out and Caesar is calling out my name and the audience are clapping.

"Rory!" he begins. "Welcome, welcome."

"Thank you," I mutter somewhat.

"Now I think there's only place to start here," Caesar commences, "and that's your training score. Eight, matching the district you come from. Now I don't know if you realise this, but that is an amazing score. I am reliably informed that it is the highest score by a tribute from district 8 for twenty-six years."

I don't have to act, surprised, as this genuinely stuns me. I also suddenly feel a surge of pressure; what will my district be expecting of me. "That's…a surprise," I say.

"Especially as district 8 isn't renowned for training with weapons," says Caesar.

"And it's very urban," I continue, "so we aren't often as accustomed to outdoor survival as some of the other districts."

"Indeed," says Caesar. "So can you give us a clue at all as to what gained you that score?"

"Sorry," I say. "I'll just tell you that I've got a surprise or two up my sleeve."

"Intriguing!" says Caesar. "Now, can I ask you, what is your attitude going into the Games? Can you sum it up in one word? Are you hopeful? Confident? Worried?"

"If I had to pick one word…it would be determined," I say.

"To win?"

"To get back home," I clarify, "so yes. Not that it isn't amazing here, but I promised my family I'd come back to them, and I intend to keep that promise."

"I'm sure you do," says Caesar, patting me on the shoulder. "So who is it waiting for you in district 8?"

"My parents and my little sister, Kay," I say quietly. "I decided from the moment I was reaped that I was going to win, because I can't bear to think of her being left alone."

The audience actually 'aww' at this and I give an internal cheer. Without even having to overact I've hopefully gained more popular support.

"You're obviously very close," says Caesar gently, and I nod. "But I'd wager," he continues, "that some of our audience are wondering if you aren't too nice to make it to the end? How would you counter that?"

"I'm not going to kill anyone I don't have to," I say, "but that doesn't mean I'm scared of a fight. If it comes down to kill or be killed…then I'll just think of my family and remember that the most important thing is for me not to die."

"Well I'm sure our viewers will be keeping a close eye on you Rory Jordan," finishes Caesar. "Mysterious skills, determined but good-hearted and kind. You are an enigma!"

"I hope I can help makes the Games great viewing!" I end, even though I have to force it out and feel sick with myself I need to end on a high, sponsor gifts could make all the difference for me.

"I'm sure you will!" says Caesar, before the interview is over and I'm returning to the waiting room.

I catch most of Clarissa's interview and wish I hadn't- it's painful- she spends the whole time in tears and doesn't even seem to grasp quite how willing the careers will be to kill her. Jonathan is too nervous to put across any image, but at least stays brave and tear-free, while Amelia plays up being vulnerable, hoping for sympathy I assume, and Carson is just natural, which unfortunately for him, I don't think will win him many sponsors, as he is quite dull.

Cinnamon talks up her chances, brave and confident while still sweet and pleasant, while Jeremiah is, surprisingly, highly talkative, having a serious conversation with Caesar that I think must verge on being censored as he discusses the morality of the games. Daisy from twelve is terrified, but angry rather than resigned with it and Syme ends the interviews in uninspiring fashion with an un-noteworthy chat, which he doesn't seem to really commit to.


	8. Day 8- Entering the Games

**Day 8- Entering the Games**

Now everyone is finished we head back to our quarters in the training tower and after Iulia, Rogellus, Marcius and Woof congratulate Tamla and I for a solid pair of interviews, we change out of our start clothes before heading to sleep. I doze off quickly and somewhat surprisingly sleep through, before waking at 5:30am. I know I haven't got a prayer of going back to sleep, so I dress, shower and head up to the roof garden.

Surprisingly, someone is already there. It's Jade. I consider returning back down the stairs, but remember she's not allowed to do anything to me, and just head over to the other side of the roof, looking out at the Capitol, evil sleeping below me. Jade glances across at me as I emerge, but says nothing, until she leaves about forty-five minutes later.

"Sweet story last night," she says coldly, "but you won't get any sympathy from me. Maybe you should say goodbye to your family, because you're dead once we get in there district eight."

"I guess we'll see soon, won't we Jade," I reply with false confidence, impressed at how steady my voice is. "Nice to chat, catch you later."

She growls at me and shoots me a death glare, but heads downstairs without another word. I wait another ten minutes, pondering whether what I just did was a good idea, before heading back to floor eight to find Tamla and Woof awake.

We eat breakfast quietly before Woof spends several hours running over everything he's taught us, and plenty of new stuff, telling us everything he remembers about the many many Hunger Games he's watched over the years. At ten past ten we are told it is time to leave, and Woof wishes us a final, unsentimental good luck, before we head up to the roof with Rogellus and Marcius. When we get there we see the two hovercraft approaching and glance awkwardly at each other, before I decide Tamla, looking very scared, needs some encouragement. I pull her into a firm hug. "Good luck…" I say, "…ally."

"You stay out of trouble…ally," she jokes back, though without much humour.

"I'll try," I says, as she climbs into the first hovercraft, followed by Marcius.

Seconds later Rogellus and I are aboard the second, and the ride to the arena is underway. A guard begins by injecting my arm with what I'm told is the GPS tracker that will keep the gamemakers and viewers alerted to my position in the arena, before Rogellus and I sit down to eat. He isn't particularly talkative and I take the opportunity to eat as much as I can, which isn't much considering that I don't know when my next meal will be. Will I be able to get any food at the start? Will there be berries or other plants around, or will the arena be barren?

I remind myself not to overthink the uncontrollable, and instead concentrate on the food for the rest of the forty minute ride. When we arrive we head underground, through a long tunnel network to my launch room. The stockyard, where we wait for the slaughter. I shower quickly before Rogellus sorts out my hair and general appearance. I'm not sure why, as it will probably not last five minutes, but don't have the foolishness to waste energy arguing over something so trivial. Eventually I'm dressed in my games outfit: a simple pair of boots, brown pants, a dark green t-shirt and a black jacket, no hood and only moderate insulation I note. I wonder if this will let me glean anything about the arena, but remember that the tribute's outfits rarely vary too much, from deserts to swamps. It's all about adapting once you're in there. A beeping noise signals it's time to get onto my podium and Rogellus wishes me good luck, I'm sure sincerely, though it means nothing to me. His last words to me are drowned out as the glass seals around me and I start to rise.

Seconds later the glass walls peel away and my first thought it that it's cold, followed instantly, as I emerge into the arena, by that it's because the arena is covered in snow. Having previously thought that the sixty second wait on the podium would seem torturously long, I now realise that it isn't a long time at all, given how much there is to take in. The Cornucopia sits in the centre of a clear area, snow-covered and about fifty metres from the ring of tributes around it. The closest supplies are about twenty metres from the golden horn, thirty from me. The field extends about a hundred and fifty further metres in every direction behind the circle the twenty-four of us are in, before pine trees form a dense forest. Opposite me, beyond the trees, is a small mountain peak, rising above us, while to my left a narrow river runs alongside the boundary of the trees. Turning round I see that far in the distance, behind the forest, appears to be a village to the right and a frozen lake to the left, in the middle of a large barren zone.

I suddenly realise I have a career either side of me. But neither are Jade- if one had been I'd have been worried that a combination of my eight in training and our conversation on the roof would have been tempting enough for her to put the Cornucopia on hold and kill me with her bare hands. It's Silver to my right and Shayla to my left- it should be alright, they'll surely go for the weapons at the Cornucopia and I'll run. I did want to try for a knife, especially as there are trees that I could use to make a staff, but the snow's too thick to run quickly in. I'd never get to one and still have time to escape the career's projectile weapons. I see the holographic countdown in the sky reach 10, and have just enough time to note the position of Fern, just left of dead opposite me, and Tamla, about four podiums to the left, before a buzzer sounds and everything blurs somewhat.

Tributes leap from their podiums across the circle, and I immediately turn and run for the forest as the adrenaline kicks in. The lack of an explosive noise means no-one triggered mines by leaving their podium too early. With no obstacles likely to trip me I chance a glance over my shoulder. The careers are fast! I realise with a curse to myself, Jade and Cleo are already at the Cornucopia! I catch a glimpse of Tamla, cutting further left away from me and towards the woods, indeed almost everyone seems to be running. I run even harder, before chancing another look in time to see Grove fighting Silver, both armed. A scream draws my attention and I'm almost running backwards now, transfixed by the action, as Varro runs Clarissa through with a sword before blocking an attack from Mitro. For a second I silently cheer Mitro on, but Varro kills him with three swings of his sword, knocking Mitro's sword away, cutting his arm to make him drop it and then decapitating him.

I'm almost at the forest now and don't appear to be being tracked, some tributes are lagging behind me and are the focus of the careers' attention, though Grove is getting away I note. Pausing for a second behind a tree I am convinced I am out of sight, with enough of a head start if I am spotted, so stop for a few seconds to watch. I realise with a jolt that I saw nothing of Fern in the chaos, and didn't see Tamla reach the woods. Are they okay, or are they among the numerous bodies that I can see, but not make out.

The six careers have congregated together, but just as I'm about to start running again, I see Jade take a knife and ram it into the base of Silver's skull. The others move towards her as his body drops, limp, but she says something I can't make out and they appear to back off. I take that as my cue and start sprinting again, just trying to get away from the careers, especially Jade.

After a few minutes I am shattered and have to slow to a light jog, which I continue for a bit longer before stopping for a proper rest. Jade killing her district partner…that'll be the talk of the Capitol right now I think. I take a quick inventory of the situation. What do I know? Silver, Mitro and Clarissa are dead along with a few others. I appear to be unharmed, though I don't have any supplies. At least I do know that there's a river somewhere not too far away. Jade, Varro, Cleo, Perrin and Shayla have formed an alliance, assuming Jade hasn't killed any more of them already, and Grove looked like he was on the verge of getting away, which would make him the only non-career with a weapon, and if I didn't miss anything, the only non-career with any sort of supplies. Tamla looked like she was escaping, but I can't be sure, while I have no clue to Fern's fate. It's also bloody cold for what I'm wearing, and the thought of keeping warm at night worries me.

Right, I think, taking a deep breath. Think, Rory. Water. That has to be my priority. I have no way of being sure in the thick forest but I think I ran fairly straight, in which case I think the river will be to my right. I head off, pausing only to snap off a weak-looking branch to use as a walking stick and, should the need arise, as a fairly weedy and wonky staff.

I walk for what must be three hours, without getting to the river. I pause to think, and realise there are many reasons why this could be. I might just not have reached it yet, as walking in this snow makes for slow going. I could not even be headed in the right direction, or the river could change course dramatically. Deciding there's nothing I can do but press on, I continue to trudge through the trees. Eventually, about another hour and a half later, I stop. I have reached a tiny little clearing, and one of the trees bordering it looks particularly large and sturdy.

I did surprise myself at the climbing station in training. And I could really do with getting a view of the area, get my bearings. What the hell, I think, as I drop my 'staff' and start to climb the tree, if I do fall maybe the snow will cushion my landing a bit.

I slip more than once, but manage not to fall, and have to pause for a while when I hear someone moving around nearby. It sounds like probably only one person, not the career pack, but that doesn't mean they won't kill me. Eventually it is silent again, and after a long and exhausting climb I'm high enough to see over the majority of the trees. Thankfully the clearing below isn't completely round, but a sort of distorted 't' shape and I use it as a sort of compass to get my bearings. If the top of the letter is north, then south is nothing but forest, west goes through a fair bit of forest before reaching the barren expanse containing the lake, east points past the mountain to another clear area in the far distance, in which the river is larger. The Cornucopia is sort of south-east, and north- vaguely the direction is was travelling I think, the forest comes to an end soon, at the collection of about thirty or forty stone buildings. I can't see the path of the river through the forest, but it emerges a little to the right of the town, to my north-east I suppose.

I wonder if there are any supplies in the buildings…what I need most right now is a water container, and a backpack would help, to carry any food I can find in. I decide my best plan for now is to aim for the river, then I can make a better judgement of the distance from the river to the town and get from one to another by skirting the forest.

I'll have to hurry if I want to reach it before it gets dark however, as climbing down the tree takes even longer than climbing up. About halfway down, with the light starting to fade, I decide to give up. My throat is very dry, but I can cope until tomorrow morning. Suddenly my train of though stops abruptly, and I actually smack myself in the head. How stupid am I? Snow is water! I'm absolutely surrounded by the stuff! I scoop some off the nearby branches and suck the moisture out. It is a slow method, horribly cold and tastes a bit of tree, but it does quench my thirst, and I know I'll sleep a lot more soundly knowing that dying of thirst isn't an immediate danger.

It makes sense, I think, as I try to jam myself between two particularly sturdy branches. The gamemakers don't wont boring deaths, and dying of thirst is certainly that. There's still plenty of peril and it means tributes are far to likely to need to kill each other, which is always what the audience want. Soon I'm fairly settled, if not comfortable, and hopeful, if not confident, that I won't fall out of the tree should I fall asleep. It's cold, but not unbearably so, though I'm not sure it'll be the same for anyone needing to sleep on the ground, unless they've found a cave or something. I find myself wondering what the careers are doing to avoid the cold, before remembering they've got all the supplies from the Cornucopia, plus plenty of sponsors. They've probably got coats, sleeping bags, tents and fire starting materials and are probably perfectly comfortable.

Suddenly I'm startled by a loud bang. The cannon. It goes off whenever a tribute dies, but on the first day they wait until the end of the day because of the chaos at the start. It goes once, twice, three times…eight times. Eight of us are dead. I'm feeling a little sick, and can only hope that Tamla and Fern are not among them. I know three- Silver, Mitro and Clarissa…but who are the other five? I'm about to find out, as pictures of the dead tributes will appear in the sky, projected there while the national anthem plays. They come in district order, girl then boy.

Silver is first, meaning Jade is still alive- the other careers haven't turned on her, or at least she escaped if they did. For all I know, Tamla or Fern could be appearing soon. No, it's the boy from three, Alecto. I can't say I'm surprised that he didn't get away from the careers in time, he wasn't very athletic.

Each pictures floats in the sky for quite a while, and it only causes my tension to build. Come on…

Next is Barr, the boy from five, who had barely made an impression on me. I only just remember his name, and feel bad for it.

Next it's Mitro. I remember the brutal way Varro killed him with sadness. He didn't deserve to die, he had a family, a little brother he was willing to die for…

Fern could still appear at any moment, or Tamla…then the next picture appears. It's Clarissa. District 9. Fern and Tamla are both still alive! I feel a surge of relief, followed by a horrible guilt that I cheered like that as Clarissa's death was announced. She never stood a chance...she obviously had a reasonably privileged life back in her district, but that wasn't her fault. It probably wasn't even that quick, or painless I think, a sword through the gut is a nasty way to die.

Jonathan, the thirteen-year old boy, is next, meaning district 9 has lost both its tributes. As have district 12 I realise soon enough, as Daisy and then Syme appear to round off the roll call.

So there are still sixteen of us still alive. That's a lot, normally more like half the tributes are killed on the first day. It could easily rise quickly though, as it'll be difficult in here with hardly anyone having any supplies, and no defence against the cold.

I count the 16 remaining competitors out. Five careers. Tamla, Fern and myself. Grove, Carson, Jeremiah. And five girls. Zianna, Kyla, Coulette…Cinnamon…and Amelia. Both from district 2, 4, 7, 8, 10 and 11 plus Jade from 1, Coulette from 3, Kyla from 5 and Zianna from 6.

Anyway, time to sleep, I think to myself. Tomorrow's going to be a tough day, trying to get hold of food water and, if at all possible, some survival supplies.

The walking has tired me out and I fall asleep fairly quickly, despite the uncomfortable bed and cold air.


	9. Day 9- The Games (Day 2)

**Day 9- The Games (Day 2)**

The next morning I wake. Judging by the position of the sun it's still fairly early, but time doesn't really matter in the arena I guess. Keeping a keen ear out for the sound of anyone nearby, knowing that I don't stand a prayer if the careers find me, I clamber down from my tree to the clearing. My staff is untouched, unsurprisingly as it just looks like any other tree branch, and I pick it up before heading off in what I'm fairly sure is the direction of the river.

I haven't seen any animals, I ponder as I walk, which is a shame because they could be a food source. Not that I'm much of a hunter, but maybe I could trap something. I do at least find some safe berries growing amongst the pines, which is at least something to make it feel like I'm eating, though I know they won't do an awful lot to keep hunger at bay.

After about an hour of walking I suddenly hear the sound of running water in the distance. I start to eagerly hurry towards it, before pausing. I need to be more careful and cautious. Footsteps are virtually impossible to hear in the snow, and I'm sure the river will have drawn everyone towards it. I don't want to walk into an ambush.

On the other hand, I think as the river comes into sight, it is a pretty big arena, for only eleven of us, plus the career pack. I don't imagine the careers will have strayed this far from the Cornucopia yet, which they will surely be using as a base, while some of the others who started on the other side of the circle are probably miles away on the other side of the mountain.

Deciding that with the cover of the trees and the size of the arena I'm as safe as I could be, I crouch to drink from the river. Could it be poisoned, I wonder, pausing for a second. It's crystal clear and there don't appear to be any fish, but there are some water weeds of some sort.

It doesn't corrode my finger when I dip it in, and I decide to chance it. It is wonderfully refreshing and doesn't have any effect on me, other than to quench my thirst. If it is poisonous it must be slow acting. This cheery thought accompanies me as I follow it down the slight incline until I reach the edge of the forest. The river winds away downhill into the distance, growing much larger, but the area around seems totally desolate. If anyone was out there they'd be instantly visible for miles, but no-one has been that foolish.

Turning my attention left I see the town. It is a significant distance, but without the danger of getting lost I think I can make it in two or three hours, maybe four if the snow is deep. In the vain hope that there could be something of use there, backed up by the knowledge that it's unlikely to be safe to return to the Cornucopia, I head towards it, making sure to stay just inside the forest, while keeping the buildings in sight.

Conscious that the further I go from the river, while I might still have snow for water, the amount of berries may well decrease, as will the likelihood of finding animals, I press on at a fairly quick pace. Eventually I reach the first building. The trees just about extend around the corner of the town, so I can hopefully stay hidden. I am fully aware that as I could see the town from the podiums, the careers at the Cornucopia, or anyone on the mountain, will be able to see me easily.

Knowing that this is a prime place for an ambush, I proceed cautiously, but am cheered by the thought that only Grove has a weapon and the careers are probably still near the Cornucopia. I hope.

The buildings are varied, I quickly realise as I scurry between them. Some are houses, some more like shops, others like warehouses. They are mostly stripped clean, but I do gain a few things of use.

There is a reasonable amount of material around- like curtains and bedsheets, and while nothing is thick enough to really help against the cold I figure a little extra insulation can't hurt, and rip some up and stuff it inside my jacket and pants and around the top of my boots. I pull down a curtain, wishing I had something to cut it with, as the material is reasonably strong and could be used to tie myself secure for sleeping in a tree, but to carry the whole thing back to the river would be very awkward. I decide to store it somewhere hidden. I can come back for it if I find any food near here, and maybe I'll stay in this part of the forest and cope with snow for water.

Plenty of material is easy enough to rip by hand however, and I use this to fashion myself a little carrying sack- pulling the four corners of a square bit of cloth together and tying them up with a thin strip of material and a good knot that I learnt in training. It weighs virtually nothing, and I can store berries in it.

There is no food to be had in the town, nor any sign of any other tributes. There is plenty of wood, including chair and table legs that could maybe be useful as a club, but nothing long enough to use as a staff. I search in vain for hours for something sharp, and am also left disappointed by the lack of power, which makes some potentially useful things utterly useless.

I also realise that I haven't heard any more cannons. From the second day they fire as soon as anyone is killed, so no-one else has died today. Are the careers not hunting yet? Or has everyone gotten too far away from them? I remember what Woof said about the gamemakers intervening if it gets too boring, and am immediately worried.

I've spoken too soon. Barely two minutes after that thought, the cannon fires. I find myself worrying that it was Tamla or Fern, but soon realise I can't let it dominate my thoughts like that every time I hear a cannon, I'll find out who it is this evening, for better or worse.

I get back to searching the buildings, constantly listening and looking for signs of anyone else, before about twenty minutes after the cannon comes the voice of Claudius Templesmith, the announcer.

"Tributes of the forty-ninth Hunger Games!" he begins. "Congratulations on surviving so far! We have noted that many of you are without supplies at this early stage, so tomorrow, at noon, there shall be two simultaneous feasts. Some items that may be of use to you will be placed at the Cornucopia, with more inside the largest building in the arena. May the odds be ever in your favour!"

They're trying to draw us together; the start has obviously not been exciting enough with a fairly small bloodbath and everyone staying apart since. I consider whether I need to attend. A water container and backpack would be nice, but aren't essential. All I really need is food, some warmer clothes…maybe a sleeping bag, and a weapon. Oh, and fire starting equipment could help too.

The next big question is will the careers come here? They already have all they want at the Cornucopia, and will be having more dropped on them…but they may think we'll all congregate here and see it as an opportunity for kills. Could they get here in time. The Games started at noon and I got here in the afternoon on the second day. It's afternoon now and they only have until noon tomorrow. It would be hard, but they could probably move faster than me and I did spend at lot of time tree climbing. Maybe they'll split…try and prevent anyone from getting anything from either feast…

I realise I'm over-thinking this. I don't know where they even are for sure, and certainly can't predict their thoughts. I search for another half hour, checking out the largest warehouse, and am pleased I do as as well as getting an idea of its layout I find the remnants of a broken motor and scavenge some bits of metal from it. Nothing is terribly sharp, though with a bit of time I might be able to cut my stashed curtain, more useful are a couple of fairly solid pieces that I could use to throw at someone, or hit them with. It's not much, but it's as close as I've got to a weapon, save my weedy 'staff', which I highly doubt could knock out someone as big as Varro or Grove.

Heading back to the forest, collecting my staff and curtain along the way I start searching for food. I do find a few berries, but no fruit, no plants on the ground- too much snow- and no leaves that I know are safe to eat. Still, it's as much food as I've found anywhere, so I find a large tree and bed down for the night. Just as I'm settling in the tree I hear the anthem of Panem playing, and realise the dead tribute from earlier is about to be revealed. I crane my neck to see the sky through the branches and see that the reason for the cannon was the death of Kyla, the girl from district five. Presumably the careers caught up with her I think sadly, but I guess it could have been anything really.

I tie my bag to a branch and use my sharpest bit of metal to cut the curtain. It takes hours, but eventually I've got it down to a manageable size and use it to tie myself to the tree, before going to sleep.


	10. Day 10- The Games (Day 3)

**Day 10- The Games (Day 3)**

I am not woken by cannon fire during the night and wake the next morning, aching but still alive and as well as can be expected.

I eat some more berries from my pack full of them, before heading warily into the town, armed only with a thin tree branch and a metal cog and bolt. No-one else is at the warehouse yet though, at least not showing themselves, and I hide my staff- it won't fit where I'm going, before heading to a hiding place I found yesterday. I hope I'm correct in thinking the supplies will be dropped through a hole in the roof of the warehouse, the floor under which I can clearly see from my position in a ventilation shaft. I start to get very uncomfortable as I wait for hours. I start to hear voices, but can't make out who is here, and then eventually the supplies appear, air-dropped into the corner of the warehouse.

I don't move though- I'd be walking into an ambush for sure. Indeed, moments later, Jade, Perrin and Shayla stride into the room. Varro and Cleo must have stayed to guard the Cornucopia.

"Anything useful?" Jade asks, as Perrin starts to go through the pile of supplies.

Shayla stands guard, her bow drawn. Perrin has a spear, and Jade, I'm horrified to see, has her shuriken. They must have been a sponsor gift, and a very expensive one at that, even at this early stage in the games. Each of them also have sheathed knives at their belts.

"Nothing we haven't already got," says Perrin. "Nothing worth weighing ourselves down with. No flint or extra matches that I can see."

Any response Jade might have had is cut off by Shayla's cry. "Out there!"

For a terrifying second I freeze, but she's pointing out of the main doors. Jade is off like a shot, and seconds later I hear a cannon. Walking back in Jade wipes one of her shuriken clean on her jacket. I'm desperately hoping that it wasn't Tamla or Fern she killed, but can't move to see.

My curiosity is satisfied however, as Perrin asks as she returns. "Who was it?"

"The big oaf from ten," she replies. Perrin just nods.

So it was Carson. I again find myself feeling a horrible guilt at the relief that it wasn't Tamla or Fern, before Perrin's voice jolts me back to the situation at hand.

"Should we burn it?" he asks.

Crap. I hadn't considered that. I can see plenty of food, clothes, backpacks…all of which would go up in smoke. There are weapons though…they couldn't burn those.

Jade has the same thought. "We can't burn the weapons. We'll take them and scatter them as we walk, they'll be much harder for anyone to find like that. Don't waste too many matches on the rest." She pauses in thought for a moment. "Burn the sleeping bags and the tent. That'll make a decent fire. Then you can chuck the other stuff on it.

Perrin nods and they start on their plan. I'm starting to get incredibly uncomfortable but don't dare shift even a little. They jam all the weapons into their packs, before piling the rest of the stuff into a bonfire and lighting it. They leave in good spirits, leaving me alone in the warehouse.

I don't dare leave for a while, in case they come back, but eventually I am brave enough to venture down. The fire is burning well, but not brilliantly. I go outside and grab a handful of snow, chucking it on the fire. I repeat this for ages, grabbing items from the fire whenever I see something not engulfed in flames. As I do this another cannon fires, presumably someone tried to get something from the Cornucopia only to find Varro and Cleo waiting for them.

The careers are totally in control at the moment, I might actually be the best-placed to threaten them, if I can find one of the weapons they dropped. But still, there are five of them. Perhaps my best hope is Jade getting impatient and killing more of them off before the rest of us are eliminated. I still don't know how I'd beat her though, I can't think of anything in here that will kill her.

With the fire still not out I give up, and go through what I've obtained. There's plenty that's useable. I pull to one side a backpack that's not too badly charred and stuff it with some burnt but not totally inedible bread, dried meat and fruit and vegetables. Before I can continue I hear a noise. I look to the doorway and see Jeremiah. The tall black boy from district eleven who scored a ten during training, and I wanted as an ally.

We both strike defensive poses upon seeing each other, but he stays back and I decide to try and talk to him.

"I'm not armed," I say.

"Neither am I," he replies.

"I don't want to fight you. There's plenty of stuff here for both of us."

He seems wary of me, but approaches. "How do I know you aren't going to stab me in the back while I look?" he asks.

"I'll stand right over the other side?" I offer with a shrug.

He grunts what I assume is an agreement and I take my pack and stand as far away as I can. He spends a few minutes gathering supplies, before getting up and making to leave.

"We could be allies?" I call after him.

"Sorry," he says. "I can't afford to be that trusting. See ya around."

And with that he's gone. I smile to myself. It would have been nice to have him as an ally, but seeing as he doesn't want that I managed to keep one very important piece of information from him. He doesn't know that there were weapons here, so he'll probably avoid the trail the careers' footprints will have left. Whereas I'm going to follow it and hopefully get myself a weapon.

I continue to pilfer the supplies, and by the time I leave my inventory comprises a rucksack, bread, fruit, vegetables, dried meat, a coat, some knee high boots which should keep the snow off my feet, and two empty water bottles; one reserved for water and one containing my berries, to stop them getting squashed. I still have my slightly sharp bit of metal, cog and bolt, and retrieve my staff. My curtain is still better for tying myself to trees than any of the weak frayed and burnt rope I find, and with the tent and sleeping bags burnt beyond use I head out to follow the careers' trail for weapons.

I'm also hopeful that my resourcefulness will have impressed potential sponsors, though I'm sure my lack of desire to fight Jeremiah won't have helped. I don't have to venture too far beyond the tree I stayed at before I find a discarded knife. Brilliant! Carrying on a little further I find another before deciding to turn back. I want to get back to my tree by nightfall, and the careers will have taken the better weapons, by which I mean swords, further.

Heading back to the tree I realise I have made the right decision, as I know nightfall is getting close by the familiar tune of the anthem playing, followed shortly by Carson's image in the sky, and then that of Zianna, the girl from six. I'm soon back at the same tree as the night before however, and clamber up.

As if my day hadn't gone well enough, after settling back in the tree, I receive not one but two sponsor gifts. Two! It's all I can do not to cheer as I see the silver parachutes falling to me. The first holds a staff. I send Woof silent thanks, he must have told sponsors to send me that, as I've not shown that my branch is anything more than a walking stick. I discard it and feel the new weapon in my hands. It's beautifully weighted and very sturdy. I use my knife to cut the parachute strings and use a couple to tie my staff to a branch, before stashing the rest in my pack and opening the second gift. It's some dried fruit and fresh meat. Fresh meat! It's more than I had hoped for my entire time in the arena as far as food was concerned. I pack the dried fruit, swapping it for the fresh stuff I obtained at the feast, and eat a meal of meat and fruit that sounds simple but is the best thing I've ever tasted right now. Tomorrow I'll head back to the river and fill up my water bottle, then I guess I'll try and find Tamla and Fern. I tie myself secure and fall to sleep very happy, considering I'm in the Hunger Games.


	11. Day 11- The Games (Day 4)

**Day 11- The Games (Day 4)**

The next morning I eat a small breakfast of bread and berries. I don't know when I'll next get food, so I'd better make what I've got last. I make it to the river with no sign of anyone and fill up my water bottle. I am very aware that my footprints leave a trail, and as I head back into the forest I stick close to the river, looking for sets of tracks that could belong to Tamla or Fern.

With my staff at hand and a knife at my belt I feel much more prepared, though still aware that I'm unlikely to encounter a career alone and the quiet of the snow makes me vulnerable to being snuck up on. Eventually something catches my eye. It's a set of footprints- but I've spotted them from further away than I would have done had they not been lit up by bloodstains.

I stop next to a print. The injured tribute's feet are smaller than mine by a noticeable amount, so I doubt it's Varro, Jeremiah, Grove or Perrin. But they're probably too big to belong to Amelia, Coulette or Cinnamon. So, not that I can be certain, that leaves the three female careers or Tamla or Fern. I swallow down the lump in my throat. I can't hide from the fact it's much more likely to be one of my friends than one of the careers, and hurry in the direction of the footprints. The amount of blood drops, which must be a good sign, but the footsteps are a bit all over the place, clearly the injured person is struggling to walk. I should catch them soon. Suddenly a cannon fires, and my heart almost stops. No…please don't let it be Tamla or Fern…please. I decide to keep following the footprints in case the incidents are unrelated, and ten minutes later realise I have made the right decision.

Collapsed against a tree, badly injured but alive, is Tamla.

"Tamla!" I call out, forgetting that my voice could draw attention.

"Rory?!" she says, sounding weak, but also surprised to see me.

"Are you hurt?" I asked stupidly, hurrying to her side, "What happened?"

"Cleo," she groans. "Cut me. On the side," she shifts to show me her bloodstained left flank, but doesn't take her hand off the wound.

"How'd you get away?" I ask her, surprised.

Tamla says weakly. "I guess that cannon was her. I got away because some mutt attacked her. Some sort of white bear. I guess she injured it too, otherwise it would have killed her straight away, or come after me."

"How are you doing?" I ask seriously.

"Not great," she says. "I don't think I can stand. I'm worried if I move too much it'll start bleeding again."

I shed my backpack and remove my coat and pull some fabric out of my shirt.

"Where'd you get all this stuff?" she asks.

"The feast at the town," I explain. "Jade, Perrin and Shayla came and stole the weapons and burnt the rest but I hid and saved some of it from the fire, and followed their footprints for the knives. The staff was from a sponsor."

"That was clever of you," she says, before adding, after a very ill-sounding cough, "I knew you'd get sponsors. I doubt anyone will send me medicine."

"Don't be silly, of course they will," I reassure. "Now take this," I says as I press the cloth into her hands. "Let me see that cut."

She gingerly removes her hand. I can't help but wince. It's fairly bad, long and deep, but not so deep as to threaten internal organs, and at least it still looks clean.

"Bad huh?" she says.

"You'll live," I reply, though I am seriously worried about it. "Right, hold that cloth to the cut, and I'll tie it with this," I say, producing my curtain.

We do so, and I'm fairly confident that it will keep pressure on the wound. She can't move properly however, and has lost a lot of blood and looks pale for it.

"Put this on," I say, pulling my coat around her shoulders. "You need to stay warm."

"Thanks," she murmurs.

I give her some water and a little food too, and she's feeling a little better. "It would be great if we could get you into a tree…" I ponder.

"I can try," she says, attempting to stand, but I push her back down.

"No," I insist. "There's too much chance of you losing too much blood. I'm not sure how much more you can afford to lose."

"You been sleeping in trees then?" she asks.

"Yeah," I say, "haven't you?"

"I tried," she says, "but I fell out. Nothing to tie myself in with."

I nod understandingly. "You must get cold at night."

She nods. "The first night in the snow I hardly slept. But the next day I headed away from the river and the snow stops."

"Really?" I say, eyebrows raised. That's news to me.

"Yeah, about an hour from the river," she says. "I've been going back and forth between the river and the grass most of the time basically."

"Seen anyone else?" I ask.

"Not until Cleo found me," she says ruefully. "You?"

"Jeremiah showed up at the feast after the careers left," I say. "I asked him to be allies but he said he couldn't be that trusting. Carson showed up too but Jade killed him."

"I saw his picture," confirms Tamla.

"She's got those throwing stars," I says. "She didn't have any problems getting sponsors."

We drift into silence for a while, before I speak up again. "Is it too far to get out of the snow?"

"Probably," she says, "but I want to try."

I decide not to argue and help her up, replacing my pack before looping her right arm over my shoulder and we head off.

It's horribly slow going and she's obviously in pain, but I remain quiet and patient. Even with me trying to hold her up and my staff in her left hand for support she falls several times. Eventually, with her face becoming paler again and blood starting to leak through her bandage I insist we stop for a bit.

Despite her protests that I need it, I make her eat some of my food and drink a little more water, and we rest for a while before continuing on even as darkness starts to fall. Cleo's face appears in the sky as we walk, confirming Tamla's suspicion that the earlier cannon was because of her attacker. We press on however, I'm determined to get out of the snow, for Tamla's sake, and I'm sure we must be close.

Sure enough, about twenty minutes later, just as the darkness becomes total, the snow starts to fade. We stop and I help Tamla sit against a tree trunk. It's still cold and she's shivering despite my coat, so I sit next to her and put my arms around her.

"What are you doing?" she asks, but doesn't protest as she leans into me.

"You're freezing," I say, "and I'm not exactly warm. We should share body heat, help keep the cold at bay a little."

She nods and is soon asleep, snuggled against my chest. I try to stay awake, knowing how vulnerable we are out here on the ground, but tiredness is getting to me. "Please…" I whisper, hoping some cameras are on us. "Don't let her die."

I don't have to act as a tear fights its way free from my eye. I know she won't last long without medicine. If the wound doesn't kill her then her inability to move properly will eventually mean we're hunted down.


	12. Day 12- The Games (Day 5)

**Day 12- The Games (Day 5)**

The next morning I wake to see a silver parachute lying next to us. I decide to check what's in it before I get to excited, but a few seconds later I'm letting out a cry of delight and shaking Tamla awake.

"Hmm? What?" she groans, struggling to force her eyes open.

"Medicine!" I announce excitedly. "They've sent you medicine Tamla!"

Her eyes light up and she's suddenly totally awake, and smiling. "What is it?"

I hold up a red syringe and a tub of paste. "I guess this is blood," I say, "seeing as you've lost so much. And this…" I read the instructions, "says apply to cut. So I guess it'll help close it or stop infection or something."

"Hit me then," she says with a smile. I remove our makeshift bandage from her wound and dab a generous amount of paste over it.

"Ahh," she cries out, "that stings."

"Sorry," I say. "Do you want to do it?"

"No, you can see better," she says. "Just take it slow."

I nod and slowly wipe paste over the rest of the long cut. I can actually hear the flesh sizzling and, amazingly, see the wound start to knot back together, until eventually only a long pale scar remains. Then I find a vein and inject the syringe full of blood into her, hoping I've done it right.

Nothing bad happens so I assume I have, and within an hour or so she's back on her feet and almost, if not completely, fully mobile.

I pack away the bloodstained bandages and my curtain, and give Tamla one of my knives, and we decide head back to the river and fill up our water bottles. There are plenty of berries everywhere in the non-snowy area, so we eat my remaining ones up and take one water bottle each.

Once we've returned to the grassy area we sit down to plan ahead. "I guess the normal thing to do now that we're not desperately searching for food or water would be to start hunting the other tributes," I offer. Tamla looks quizzically at me, but I continue. "But you're still not in great condition," I say, "plus I have not intention of hunting down and killing defenceless kids."

"So…" says Tamla

"Well the careers are another matter, but I wouldn't fancy our chances against them even if you weren't injured and even if they split into pairs. So I guess we just keep moving. I know we aren't leaving footprints to follow anymore but it's still not a good idea to stay in one place."

"So we just wander?" asks Tamla. "Not much of a plan is it? Not that I've got a better idea!" she quickly adds as I give her a half-hearted glare.

I shrug. "We look for more food. We look for shelter. We try and find Fern."

"Well let's go then!" she says, hopping to her feet.

I look at her, surprised at her sprightliness. "You sure? You don't want to rest a little longer?"

"I feel fine," she says, "that medicine worked wonders."

"Well as long as you're sure," I say and clamber to my feet to follow her. We soon come to the edge of the forest just further along from where I had walked on the second day. I consider heading back to the town, we might be able to pick up some more supplies like another water bottle or two or a second rucksack or coat. I decide against it however. Other tributes may well have picked it clean by now, and even if they haven't I am enjoying being out of the snow too much to go back that way.

The one disadvantage of being out of the snow is that we can't get water whenever we want, so we decide to stick to the edge of the forest so we can judge how far we are from the river so we can always head back if our bottles start to get low. It also means we are on the opposite edge of the woods from the Cornucopia, which I'm assuming is still the careers' base.

When we decide to stop for the evening, a thought strikes me. "Do you think there must be more water behind the mountain?" I ask Tamla.

"Why do you ask?" she replies.

"Well Fern and several others started on the opposite side of the ring to us, near the mountain, so when they ran they'd have gone past it I imagine. Seeing as they haven't all been popping up in the sky dying of thirst…maybe there's water round there. I mean it's a big arena and all, but we've not seen any of the others around here."

"Maybe," she shrugs. "Could we get far enough to see without running out of water?"

"We can make this water last three days at a push," I say. "If we head for the mountain tomorrow we can see if we can see anything. If not we can be back at our stream in a day or two, depending how close to the Cornucopia we risk going."

"Okay," she says, non-committal, "I trust you Rory."

"Thanks," I say offhandedly, though I'm actually quite flattered and trying not to blush. "Reckon you can make it into a tree tonight?" I ask to change the subject.

"Yeah sure," she says, "but you've only got one bit of cloth, how are we both going to tie ourselves in?"

"Now I've got a knife I can cut it in half again," I reply, "it'll still be strong enough."

I get the curtain out of my pack and get started, chucking the rucksack over to Tamla. "Here, have something to eat," I say.

"What about you?"

"I'll get something after I've cut this," I say.

"Okay," she murmurs, rifling through the pack while I perch on a rock and saw away with the knife, trying not to ruin the useful bit of material.

Unfortunately by the time I realise neither of us is keeping a lookout it's too late. I hear a noise, slight but noticeable over the stillness of the forest, and look up to see a flash of red through the trees. "GET DOWN!" I scream, throwing myself behind the rock.

I hear the footfalls of someone running as I lie on the floor. Is it Shayla, because it could only have been her flaming hair that I saw, running? Peeking up over the rock I see no sign of her. What I do see is Tamla, sitting exactly where she was before. With an arrow in her chest.

"NO!" I scream. "TAMLA!"

I hurry over to her, checking around but there's no sign of Shayla. She's still alive, but it looks bad. "Come on!" I say, "please don't die…"

She looks at me with a sadness that suggests she knows her own fate. Examining her wound more closely I see that the arrowhead has gone deep into her chest.

My worst fears are confirmed a few seconds later, as she gives a huge, heaving, hacking cough, and spews blood everywhere. The arrow must have punctured her lung.

"I don't know what to do!" I say helplessly. I know I can't pull the arrow out, but I can see her life ebbing away. She's already struggling to breathe, but manages to croak out. "Thank you Rory." Another cough, her face is deathly pale. "Win."

I grasp her by the shoulders, trying to shake some life into her, but she has stopped breathing. A few seconds later the cannon fires.

"I'm sorry…" I whisper through tears, before placing a kiss on her forehead. I manage to stay composed enough to retrieve her knife and coat before the hovercraft comes to take her body, before I break down, sobbing for a good few minutes.

When I managed to cough myself back to sense my overwhelming feeling is anger as much as sadness. I want revenge.

Suddenly I'm calculating. Why did Shayla run after shooting, why not finish me off? The only thing I can think is that she's maybe injured, or out of arrows. Whatever the case, the reason only for her not killing me too is that she's weakened in some way. I might just have a chance.

I hoist up my pack, slip on the coat and pick up my staff before heading off in the vague direction I think Shayla ran. As I walk Tamla's last words come back to me. She told me to win. And suddenly I remember that was always my goal. I can't give up. I want to see my parents and Kay again.

As I continue on the weather takes a turn for the worse for the first time since we've been in the arena. A strong wind picks up and rain starts lashing down, though the trees provide good cover and the noise is the most noticeable thing.

I'm no tracker, so I walk fairly aimlessly, before suddenly I see her, through the trees. I duck behind a large trunk and peek. Without the snow to cover my footfalls she'll hear me as soon as I go for her…except that the wind and rain are deafening now. Her back is turned, and my staff gives me extra reach…I can do this.

Shayla appears to be studying an injury of some sort, she isn't going anywhere. I falter briefly, before steeling myself with the knowledge that this girl voluntarily came into these games to kill. If I can't kill her after what she just did to Tamla then there's no way I can win this thing. And I really want to win.

I charge.

Shayla obviously sees movement out of the corner of her eye, because she whirls round, eyes wide, bow drawn. I feel a sharp pain in my arm before swinging my staff like a long-handled club, and cracking her round the skull before she can duck.

She collapses to the ground. I draw my staff back, preparing to hit her again, but she doesn't rise. That's it, I've done it.

But the cannon doesn't fire. In fact, I realise as I look more closely, I can still see her breathing. But she's not moving. Unconscious. No! Her eyes flick open. But she still doesn't move. With a sickening realisation as I see the angle her neck is at I understand. She is paralyzed. I should finish her off, cut her throat. But I can't. It's not even a desire for her to suffer, I want to be merciful. But I just can't kill her like that, in cold blood, like an animal. I can't bring myself to do it.

Her eyes are pleading with me, but I just can't. Instead I look away, examining the arrow still stuck in my right arm. Lucky I'm left-handed. I know I shouldn't pull it out, but right now the pain seems like an attractive distraction to my thoughts. I rip the arrow from my arm and can't help but cry out in pain. Bandaging the ragged wound with some cloth, hoping a sponsor sends me something for it, everything suddenly hits me.

I've just effectively murdered a teenage girl, who herself murdered one of my friends. All because of some sick regime's twisted revenge. And now that girl, a girl called Shayla, who probably has family and friends that love her back in district four, is lying behind, me paralyzed because of me. And I haven't even got the courage to end it for her. She must be in hell right now. I go for my knife, but before I even lay hands on it I imagine myself slitting her throat and realise again that I just can't do that. So I do the only thing I can. I collapse to the floor and cry at all of it.

I'm all cried out soon enough, but don't move anywhere. Well over an hour must have passed, and the anthem has played for the day, when finally the cannon booms, startling me. She must have been bleeding internally or something. I can finally bring myself to look at her again.

Her face is bruised and she has a long cut on her arm. I imagine she fought with the other careers. She also has no more arrows and no other weapons. Or a backpack. This makes me sure she had to flee in a hurry, probably from Jade. I always thought the other careers were likely to turn on her before the end, although given Cleo's death I might have thought keeping an archer would be useful. Still, Perrin and Jade are still both deadly at range.

Deciding Shayla has nothing worth stealing I leave before the hovercraft appears, whispering an apology to Shayla under my breath before turning away. After walking aimlessly for a while through the now dark forest I work out a plan of action.

I might as well continue with what Tamla and I were going to do, head round the back of the mountain to look for another water source. My own water supply will last longer now, I think sadly, before clambering into a tree; which is painful due to my injured arm. Sleep doesn't come easily, and when it does it's filled with images I would rather not see.


	13. Day 13- The Games (Day 6)

**Day 13- The Games (Day 6)**

When I wake the next morning my arm wound is looking nasty, I'm sore from the uncomfortable bed and I still can't shake Tamla or Shayla's faces from my mind. I set off towards the mountain nevertheless however. Trudging grimly on after several hours of uneventful walking I suddenly realise I have made the final ten. There's me. That's one. The career pack of Jade, Varro and Perrin, assuming they are still together make four. Grove, the only other tribute armed as far as I know- 5. Jeremiah, who has supplies from the town feast makes 6, and the final four are all girls- Fern, Cinnamon, Coulette and Amelia. And Fern, at 5 foot 5, is considerably the tallest. I'm impressed at all four of them for making it this far. Unless they have sponsors, and I can't imagine any of them having an awful lot in the way of capitol backing, they will all be pretty much without supplies.

I wander on all day without any sign of anyone else, or anything nasty from the gamemakers. My arm is getting really sore however and when I finally pluck up the courage to look at it, having painfully clambered into another tree, I see that it looks infected. There's not much I can do however, except hope for more sponsor gifts, but I can't imagine those are likely after all the crying I've done. Besides, gifts are already much more expensive than when we started.

I don't have much of an appetite, but know I need to eat so I force down some dried meat, stale bread and a few berries, before belting myself to a branch and trying to sleep. The anthem plays as I sit there, and I realise that the others will only just be finding out that Shayla died, seeing as her cannon didn't go off until after last night's anthem. I can't see the sky however, and am glad for it.

I do eventually manage to drift off, but wake suddenly, with the night still pitch black. I think some sort of noise woke me, but in my just-awake state it's hard to be sure. Until I hear it again. It's the roar of an animal, and it's very close.

Daring to peek down from my perch I see it. The darkness would make it hard to see, except that the mutt below me has shining white fur. It's a sort of bear, and suddenly I remember Tamla telling me that a white bear attacked Cleo when she in turn attacked Tamla. I had barely thought about it since then.

I'm high enough to be out of harm's way for now, I just have to hope that if it notices me that it can't climb trees. Or decide to be really patient and starve me out of the tree. It's a good 12 feet long I reckon and incredibly powerfully built. Thankfully it wanders on, roaring a few more times before I fall back to sleep.


	14. Day 14- The Games (Day 7)

**Day 14- The Games (Day 7)**

I'm very reluctant to get down from my tree when I wake the next morning. The combination of the white bear mutt and my injured arm make me want to stay safely in the tree, but I'd only run out of food and water. As I suspected no-one's sent me anything for my arm either. Great.

Despite my lack of motivation I clamber down from the tree, dropping the last few metres after slipping. I land heavily, but don't appear to have suffered anything worse than bruises.

I try to keep my wits about me as I walk, looking for any sign of water, the other tributes, or the bear mutt. I also realise that no-one died yesterday and the gamemakers won't let it go for too long without anyone dying without intervening in some way.

I can do nothing more but walk on for now however. I stop to have a little bit of my supplies for lunch, when suddenly everything happens at once.

The first thing I hear is a roar than can only be the bear mutt, which chills me to the bone. As I start to run in the opposite direction a high-pitched scream pierces the forest, followed seconds later by a cannon booming. That can't have been a coincidence I think as I run, before suddenly realising that climbing into a tree might be a safer move right now. I spot a climbable one, and safely up it when suddenly I notice a green light flashing on the trunk. Glancing around I notice it on several other trees too. Deciding it's unlikely to be anything good I quickly climb down, and before I'm quite at the bottom I realise I was right to leave in a hurry. A hissing noise draws my attention upwards, and I see a thick green smoke issuing from the branches. For a second I think I'm safe below it, but the stream doesn't relent and the gas, coming from trees all around me, starts to sink to the ground.

Jumping out of the tree from as high as I dare, conscious that the bear is still nearby, I pull some cloth from my bag as I run, holding it over my mouth and nose as the gas starts to surround me. Despite the cloth I can feel my nostrils burning and start to cough heavily. My eyes are burning too, I can barely see where I'm going…then, without warning, I'm out of the cloud. I continue to run, filling my lungs with gulps of clean air as I do so, when I suddenly see water through the trees. If possible I run even faster, towards what looks like a large pond or small lake, when suddenly something hits my ankles and sends me face first into the dirt. I roll over to defend myself, but I'm too slow. An elbow slams into my throat, knocking the breath from me. I prepare to die, but when nothing has happened after a few seconds I open my eyes to see Fern looking down at me, soaking wet, a stone raised in her hand, ready to smash into my skull.

But she is frozen in mid-strike, mouth in a perfect 'o'. "That offer of an alliance still on?" she asks warily, still holding the rock.

I nod, unable to quite recover my breath enough to speak yet. Her suspicious eyes soften and she gets off me, dropping the stone as she does so.

"You okay?" she asks, not sounding overly concerned, but at least offering me a hand to help me to my feet.

"Give me a sec," I say, massaging my throat. "That water safe to drink?" I ask, pointing at the lake.

"Yeah," she replies, and even as the word's leaving her mouth I hurry to the shore and drink up.

"No sign of the gas?" I ask when I've finished drinking.

"What gas?"

"That's good enough," I say. "They released some sort of gas from the trees," I explain, "that's why I was running."

"Do you reckon that was the cannon?" she asks, "Someone get caught by it?"

I shake my head. "That was the bear I think."

"Bear?"

"You've not seen it? Some giant white bear mutation is roaming around. Maybe more than one."

"I guess that was that roar," she says. "Let's hope the water doesn't draw it here."

I nod weakly, returning to massaging my throat. "Are you alright?" Fern asks again, "I'm sorry about attacking you, I didn't realise it was you until…"

"Until you were halfway through the killing blow," I cough. "Well thanks for stopping eventually. And I'll be okay thanks," I add, "you got me bloody hard though, you're stronger than you look."

She shrugs. "I don't know you have to be strong for an elbow in the throat to hurt."

"Have you been staying by this lake then?" I ask. "Or wandering around?"

"Wandering around a bit," she replies, "but I've been coming back here to sleep every night. That tree there-" she points, "-is really easy to climb and pretty high."

"You managed to stay up without tying yourself in?" I ask.

She nods. "The branches are pretty thick up higher."

"You got any supplies?" I ask.

"No," she says. "Where'd you get all yours?"

"The feast," I explain, the careers came and burned it all but I managed to recover some stuff…My staff!" I suddenly exclaim.

"What?"

"My staff!" I say, aggravated. "I left it behind when I was running from the gas!"

"You can make another one," she suggests. "Rory!" I'm already striding back the direction I came from. "Rory!" she calls again, chasing after me. "The bear was that way and-"

She stops as we come into view of the wall of gas, stationary in front of us. "It's like it has a defined area…" Fern says.

"Whatever," I snap, "I've lost my staff. And I can't just make a new one. It was a sponsor gift, it was perfectly weighted and everything."

"Sorry," she says, deciding not to press the subject further. "So what have you got," she says as we return to the lake, gesturing to my backpack.

"Just food mainly," I say, "not too much left now. A couple of water bottles, some bits of metal, some cloth."

When she doesn't reply I sit down against a tree, suddenly realising how exhausted I am. Fern drops down next to me. "Final nine then," she says grimly. "You seen who all the deaths are?"

I nod. "So you know about Tamla then?" Fern asks cautiously.

"I was with her," I say quietly, feeling a lump building in my throat.

"I'm sorry," she replies. After a brief silence she asks what I know she's thinking. "What happened?"

"Shayla shot her with an arrow," I say simply.

"She's dead too," comments Fern.

"I know," I say. "I killed her." This seems to genuinely shock Fern, judging by her expression. "I broke her neck with my staff and paralyzed her, then sat there while she died because I'm too much of a coward to do the decent thing and put her out of her misery."

"Don't be too hard on yourself," she whispers. "Killing someone isn't easy. And it shouldn't be."

"You seen anyone else?" I ask, trying to change the subject.

"I've had a couple of close shaves with the careers," she says, "but I've managed to get up trees both times. And I saw the little girl from 10 too-"

"Amelia," I interject.

She nods. "Anyway, I saw her and she didn't see me, but I just left her alone. I couldn't do anything to her, she's only a kid."

"I wonder if it was her the bear killed," I muse.

"It could have been anyone."

"No," I say, "I heard someone scream and it was definitely a girl."

"Hopefully it was the girl from one," Fern says. "She scares me."

"Jade."

"Have you learnt everyone's names?" she asks.

"I couldn't help it really," I say. "I just remember things like that. But yeah, she is terrifying."

"I wonder how the boy from her district died in the bloodbath…" Fern says.

"He didn't exactly," I say. "Jade killed him as all the careers gathered after it. I saw from the edge of the forest. And when I killed Shayla she was already injured, I bet Jade turned on her too."

"Well hopefully all the careers finish each other off fighting each other," says Fern bitterly.

We talk for a while after that, sat by the lake. I offer Fern some of my food and one of my water bottles, though we keep it in my pack, and teach her the names of the remaining tributes. We each tell the other in more detail what we've done during the games, and I show her my infected arm, which she seems very worried about.

Eventually the anthem plays, and we look up to see little Amelia's face staring back at us. I look at Fern to say we should get into a tree, but my words stick in my throat as I see tears streaming down her face.

Partly because she looks like she needs it, and partly because I do, I pull her into a hug. When I let go a few minutes later, after she's stopped crying, I reach into rucksack and pull out the two strips of curtain and offer her one. "Here," I say, "use this to tie yourself into the tree."

"Thanks," she mutters, before starting to get a handhold on the trunk.

"Fern," I say, causing her to turn back to me.

"Yeah?"

"Can I trust you?"

"I think you need to decide that Rory," she says, looking a little hurt.

I sigh to myself. She's right, she's hardly going to admit it if she's planning to kill me in my sleep. But she'd have just killed me earlier, surely, if she wanted to get rid of me…

"Hey," I say, as she's turned away again.

"What?" she says sharply, before her glare fades when she sees the knife in my hand, held out to her.

"Take it," I say. "I don't need two."

She does so. "Thank you," she says quietly. I nod at her, but we don't say another word until we are both secured in the tree.

"Do you hear that?" I hear Fern whisper, just as I'm starting to head towards sleep.

I don't, so instead of replying I listen carefully, but all I can hear is the wind. I'm about to say so when I hear it. "There!" hisses Fern.

"I hear it," I say. "Sounds like the bear."

"Are we safe up here?" Fern asks.

"I don't know," I whisper back. "Probably best be quiet."

She nods in acknowledgement, and a minute or so later we see the muttation, walking right under our tree. It heads to the lake to drink, and we are not able to even consider sleep until it has left, a good hour or so later.


	15. Day 15- The Games (Day 8)

**Day 15- The Games (Day 8)**

When I wake the next morning I glance round to see Fern already up, apparently deep in thought.

"Morning," I say, jolting her from her reverie.

"Oh, hi," she murmurs. "Sleep okay?"

I didn't, but don't want to discuss my nightmares, so just nod weakly. We eat breakfast before leaving the tree, which we do so cautiously, given our sighting of the bear mutt last night.

"What do you want to do?" she asks.

I reply with my own question. "Is there anything to eat except berries around here?"

"Not unless you reckon you can catch any of the animals," she says. "Birds and squirrels mainly."

"We should try and make the meat we've got last then," I say. "We might as well eat the bread in the next couple of days though, there's not much left anyway, and it'll turn into a rock."

"I think our best chance of not running into that bear is to move away from the river," she says.

I shrug. "I was a fair way from the river when I first saw it. Besides, I think there's more than one of them."

"Well let's follow the river then," she says, "but I'd really feel much better if we went away from here."

"Well lead the way then," I say, "I don't know this area."

She obliges, and we walk around the edge of the lake before heading back along the far shore until we reach the river. When we stop for lunch, having collected a lot more berries, I excuse myself to cut a sturdy-looking branch from a nearby tree.

"You going to make that into a staff?" she asks.

I nod. "Yup."

We don't talk much, but once we've started off again after eating I do think of something to ask Fern.

"Fern…" I get her attention. "What did you do in your individual training session?"

"I used a sling," she says. "Not that there's much chance of me getting one in here.

I raise my eyebrows at her. "Full of surprises aren't you?"

"And you aren't?" she replies, mimicking my tone. "A district 8 scoring an eight? You haven't got any reason to be able to fight, we have to be able to defend ourselves from all sorts of animals out in the forest."

"Fair enough," I say. "My dad taught me. Never really stopped to think about why, even though I knew it was pretty unusual. Guess I'm thankful now though."

We lapse back into silence into that, as I work on carving the branch into a staff for a while, but it's far from finished when we decide we need to move on.

Our walk is uneventful, with no sound of any tributes or muttations, until suddenly I spot something. "Hold it a second," I say to Fern, "I think I saw something."

"What?" she says, her hand going to her knife.

"There," I say, pointing to our left. "There's a flashing blue light on that tree, just like the green ones the gas came from, just before found each other."

"What do you say we get out of here before we find out what blue means?" Fern says, sounding light-hearted but worried, already backing away.

"Um, yeah, good idea," I say, turning away from the lit tree and hurrying away. However, as we jog away I notice that the same light is present on trees at regular intervals, and also on the other side of the river. "This is not good…" I mutter, before we find out what the blue light means.

A bolt of electricity shoots out from one of the trees on the other side of the river, in all directions, scorching a shrub, electrifying the river, and zapping barely a foot in front of us.

"Away from the river!" I yell, as I sprint off with Fern in tow. And my instinct proves right, as the row of lightning trees appears to be only one deep, and we are soon clear from immediately danger, although the fact that the electricity appears to have set some of the trees on fire, keeps us running for a good half-hour or more.

Eventually, we collapse, exhausted. Once I've caught my breath, I'm quickly back to my feet, wary that we've been too relieved at escaping the lightning and fire to worry about other dangers. "Come on," I say to Fern, "the trees are too thick for my liking here. It's perfect for an ambush."

She sighs tiredly, but wordlessly gets to her feet, her hand at her knife as we wander on, fairly aimlessly. Eventually, after several hours, the trees thin a bit.

"Good job we've got enough water to last," Fern says, sitting on a log. "We haven't got a clue which way the river is."

"It's a pretty tricky arena to get your bearings in," I agree.

"So what do we do now?" Fern asks after a brief silence.

"Walk as much as we can until we need to stop for the night and hope we find the river," I say, "unless you've got a better plan."

"Nope, let's just rest for a few minutes."

I nod my agreement, but shortly wish I hadn't. Without walking to distract me I look at my arm and suddenly realise how much it hurts, and how bad it looks.

Fern notices and winces. "We should really do something about that."

"Ya think?" I say, raising my eyebrows. "I worked that much out, I just don't know what to do."

"There are some plants that can help," she says, "but I haven't seen any of them. Sorry," she adds, "I'm being totally useless aren't I?"

"It's not your fault," I say bluntly, "I'm the one who got shot."

She doesn't reply, and I find myself wishing I could have made that sound a bit more sincere, but I'm just not in the mood right now. To be friendly, cheerful, conversational even. I'm just down.

"Come on," I say brusquely, "let's go."

"I thought we were having a rest?" she says. "Rory!?"

"You can follow me or you can stay here," I say, and I'm off. For a moment I think she's not going to follow me, but then she's jogging after me, and silently settles into step behind me.

Eventually my legs are about to give up on me from the quick pace I've maintained. "That tree looks good," I say, and without waiting for Fern to agree, start to climb.

She soon joins me in the branches. We sit in silence as the anthem plays and it's confirmed that no-one died today, though Fern keeps shooting me furtive glances. I can tell she's uncomfortable with the silence, but I honestly can't think of anything I want to talk about.

"That's the first day no-one's died I think," she says eventually. "How many days have we even been in here? I've lost track."

"Eight," is my simple reply.

"Are you alright Rory?" she asks.

"No!" I say angrily, releasing some of the pent up emotion that's been building as we walked today. "My arm hurts like hell. And whenever it hurts it reminds me that it was Shayla that did it, which reminds me that I killed her, which reminds me that she killed Tamla. And I can't deal with all that right now. Maybe ever."

I realise that this isn't the attitude of a potential victor, and even if it is how I feel I probably shouldn't be voicing it to the Capitol and all the viewers, but I've reached the limit of my self-control.

Fern is looking at me with sad eyes. "I don't want your pity," I say to her, though my voice has lost its edge. I guess I'm just too nice to stay angry.

"Concern isn't the same as pity," is her succinct reply.

"Well thanks," I mutter, "but don't worry about me. I'll cope."

"What's the plan for tomorrow then?" she asks, trying to change the subject, "Shall we try and find the river again?"

"We should," I say, "but we can't just wander. The only way to do it is find a nice tall tree to get our bearings from. So I guess we do that and then head for the river."

"And watch out for lights on the trees," says Fern ruefully.

"And mutts and careers," I add grimly.

"Hey, don't sound so down," she says with a forced smile. "You've still got a chance. We are in the final nine."

"But I don't want you to have to die for me to win though," I say sombrely. Fern looks a little abashed, and when our eyes meet we stare at each other for a second or two too long for it not to be awkward. I pretend to suddenly be intrigued with something on the back of my hand and silence falls over us.

I almost add, 'this is all so wrong' to my previous sentence, but manage to hold back the words which surely would not be appreciated by the government, who can kill me with a flick of a switch as long as I'm in here. Not that I'd be safe if I did win, more than one victor has died 'mysteriously' after being too critical of the President, Games or Capitol.

The atmosphere between Fern and I is still a little uncomfortable as I offer her some food and water from my backpack, before we wordlessly agree to go to sleep as darkness starts to envelop us.


	16. Day 16- The Games (Day 9)

**Day 16- The Games (Day 9)**

I wake to a throbbing pain in my infected right arm, and after quickly testing it out, realise it is even worse than I thought, I'm struggling to move it freely. I'm anxious to get out of the tree before it gets any worse, so I wake Fern and start to climb down.

It ends badly however, as I position myself poorly, and the strength in my arm fails me. I fall about fifteen feet, cracking a couple of branches on the way down. They slow my fall a little, but with the caveat of what I'm sure will turn into a pair of fantastic bruises, on my face and side.

"Rory!" exclaims Fern, scrambling hurriedly down after me, dropping the last ten feet, though with infinitely more grace than me, landing cat-like on all fours. "Are you okay?" she asks, stepping over where I'm still lying on the ground.

"I'll live," I groan. "Don't think I've broken anything," I add as I get to my feet with a helping hand from Fern.

"Do you want to wait a minute?" she asks, "Or have something to eat?"

"Nah, let's go," I say. Fern nods at me, and we stride off.

It's not too long before we find a tree tall enough to get a good view from, but my arm prevents me from climbing it, so I sit at the base, working on carving my branch into a staff some more while Fern does the scouting.

She returns shortly with good news; we aren't too far from the river. It's difficult to keep your bearings in the forest, and we're sure we're lost for a while, before at some point in the afternoon we stumble across the river. We gleefully drink up, and refill our bottles.

"Do we stick by the river?" Fern asks, as we sit for a break. I can tell she's thinking exactly what I've been pondering- do we move away and risk not being able to find it easily again, or do we stay by it, knowing that it increases the chances of us running into other tributes or the muttations.

"I'd rather not," I say. "Do you reckon you'll be able to find it again?"

She shrugs. "I guess if I can't I can always hop up another tree."

"True," I concur. "We'll rest up for a bit then look for somewhere to camp for the night then."

"Are you going to be able to make it up a tree?" Fern asks me. She looks worried.

I shake my head. "I don't think so," I say contritely, "it's not feeling any better."

"We'll just have to sleep in shifts then I guess," she says, with a smile. I'm thankful at her concern for my wellbeing, and willingness to put herself out for my sake, but am unable to articulate it with any more than a simple muttered 'thanks'.

"That's fine," she says, smiling at me again. "What are friends for?"

I smile back at the comment, finding myself thinking how pretty her smile is, before I realise that I'm staring for the second time in two days and look away, glancing around. The trees are quite thin here, it would be quite hard to sneak on us, and there aren't any flashing lights in sight.

Nevertheless, after what happened to Tamla I'm not about to drop my guard, so I ask Fern if she minds keeping watch while I work on my staff. She says she's happy to, so I get to work. After half an hour or the piece of wood in my hand is definitely more staff than branch. I decide to give myself an extra advantage by sharpening one end into a rudimentary spear too, which is a laborious task, but will hopefully be worthwhile.

I get the feeling eyes are on me as I carve away and Fern's sudden movement as I glance up confirms to me that she was watching me. I considering scolding her for not keeping her eye on watch, but I don't want the confrontation, and I guess I'm kind of flattered.

I hope I'm not kidding myself but I'm starting to think there really is something between Fern and I. And as much as I tell myself that the idea of anything happening between us is ridiculous, being in the Hunger Games as we are, I can't stop it hogging a good portion of my thoughts.

She, another glance up reveals, is now diligently, almost exaggeratedly, scanning the surroundings for any signs of danger. I find myself looking at her again, as my hands continue mechanically on the carving. Sure she's looking a little dishevelled from 9 days in the forest that is the arena, but she really is beautiful.

"Son of a bitch!" I suddenly cry out. I'm instantly cursing myself internally twice over, both for the way my shout could draw danger to us, and for the copious amount of blood pouring from my thumb where I've sliced the end off. That'll teach me- getting distracted by a pretty girl is not a good idea while you're using a knife.

"What!" cries Fern. There is no need for me to answer with words, I just hold up my thumb. It's bleeding quite a lot, but it's only superficial. Fern can tell, and it loses me any chance at sympathy. "You idiot…" she says, though her tone is playful rather than admonishing. She takes my hand in hers to examine my wound more closely. "I guess just wrapping some of your cloth round it," she says, "otherwise you'll leave a blood trail, and I think we should move on now."

I reach for my bag to get some cloth out, but she reaches out. "Give it here, let me do it."

I'm happy to acquiesce, and she's soon tied a large wad of cloth around my thumb. It'll stop me from holding anything easily, but seeing as my right arm's pretty useless anyway at the moment that's no big deal.

"You should pay more attention when you're using a knife," she says as she finishes tying a knot. It's a simple enough comment, but there's something about how she says it that makes me think she knows I was staring at her. Is she flirting with me?

I scold myself for letting my thoughts run away, but realise that while I've been thinking she's still holding my hand in both of hers. I look up from the floor, and my grey-blue eyes meet her dark brown ones. My heart flutters at the tender look she's giving me, before she suddenly lets go and stands up.

"Come on then," she says, sounding cheery but serious, "we should definitely move."

"Agreed," I say. "Lead the way."

We talk sporadically as we walk for about an hour before Fern stops in a clearing. "Here seems as good as anywhere if we're not going up a tree."

I nod my agreement. It's still only late afternoon I think, but there's no reason to walk for the sake of it, and we don't want to get to far from the river.

We sit down and I remove the bloodstained cloth from my thumb, stuffing it back into a pocket of my backpack. The bleeding has stopped thankfully, and it's still pretty numb, I get the feeling it'll start hurting later or tomorrow.

Looking through the rest of my backpack I decide to broach a subject we've been avoiding for the past day or so. "We're gonna run out of food by the end of tomorrow," I say.

"Back to berries I guess," she says.

"Yeah. Shame there are so few animals in here."

"Most of them would be a bit quick to catch anyway," she says. "Maybe if I had a sling, but not with a knife or your staff. No offence."

"None taken," I say. "It's not meant for hunting."

"Are you even going to be able to use it with your arm?"

"Not brilliantly," I admit, "but I'm left-handed so I won't be totally useless."

We chat away for a while before a silence falls. I must have dozed off, because next I remember after that is Fern leaning over me, hand on my shoulder, and darkness has fallen. "Your turn to be lookout," she says with a smile.

"Fantastic," I say sardonically, rubbing my eyes free of sleep.

"Have a nice sleep," I say as she lies down, pulling some non-bloodstained cloth from my backpack in a vain attempt to make a pillow.

"I shall. Have a nice watch."

I chuckle at her, before shutting up to let her get some shuteye.


	17. Day 17- The Games (Day 10)

**Day 17- The Games (Day 10)**

I find myself having to constantly poke myself to stay awake as the night wears on. Thankfully there isn't a sound other than the wind and, later in the night, birdsong. I occupy myself by watching Fern sleep, and when I start to worry it's turning from sweet to creepy, finishing carving my staff, which is slow progress with my injured hand and infected arm.

Eventually I'm satisfied with my weapon, just as first light starts to break through the trees and I decide to wake Fern.

"Hey," I say as she rouses after a gentle shake, "I need a couple of hours or I'm gonna drop off in the day."

"Okay, no problem," she says.

"Wake me in a couple of hours I guess," I say, borrowing her 'pillow' and laying down, "when the sun's properly up."

If she does reply then I'm asleep before she says anything, before she wakes me and feeling refreshed I lead the way as we go berry-hunting.

It takes a while, but eventually we find a plentiful supply of edible berries, and stumble across the river in the process. Deciding to make the most of it while we're here we drink much more than we'd normally allow ourselves and refill our bottles.

We stay by the river for lunch, confident in our ability to keep and eye and ear out for danger, and eat the last of my remaining food, a couple of bits of dried meat.

"There aren't even any fish," says Fern, leaning over the river. "Shame. You might have been able to spear a couple with your staff."

"I've never eaten fish," I comment offhandedly.

"Not even in the Capitol?"

"Point," I say. "I'm not sure, but I did eat a lot of stuff that I didn't recognise."

"I know what you mean," she says with a small laugh, "I didn't really care what it was called, just how it tasted."

My reply never makes it out, as our conversation is suddenly rendered obsolete by a cannon firing. It's been so long since I heard one that it makes me jump almost out of my skin.

The silence that follows is eerie, before Fern breaks it. "Final eight…"

I suddenly realise that I slept through the anthem yesterday, with Fern's comment confirming that no-one died. "I wonder who it was…" I say.

"I don't know, but let's move," Fern says seriously, "I don't like sitting around in the open knowing someone or something's just killed someone."

I agree, and her point is further exaggerated moments after we start walking, when we realise that the death was close by, close enough for us to be able to clearly hear the hovercraft arriving to collect the dead tribute's body.

We hurry up, moving into a slight jog as we head away from the direction the noise came from. After about five minutes I'm about to suggest we slow back to a walk, when I find myself flat on my face.

Fern sighs as she offers me a hand up. "You're getting quite accident-prone. Not a good habit to have in the arena," she adds, trying to make a joke but unable to avoid sounding a bit bleak too.

I don't respond however, as I have something more important to say to Fern. "Look at this," I say, stepping over towards a tree, indicating a hole at the base of the trunk I spotted when lying on the floor.

"Does this go somewhere?" she asks, peering into the dark hole.

"Dunno," I say. "One way to find out," I add, poking my legs into the hole, which slopes downwards.

"Wait!" hisses Fern. "Are you sure? It could be a burrow, it could have a mutt in."

"Or it could be a perfect place to hide out," I say. "I don't feel safe now I can't get up trees; I almost fell asleep while I was keeping watch last night."

"Okay," sighs Fern, "lead the way."

I smile at her. "Wish me luck." With that I slide myself into the opening. It curves away into pitch darkness, and narrows until I can barely fit, before I can't help but give a little whoop as I emerge into a cave or burrow or whatever you want to call it.

It's lit slightly by a small opening in the ceiling, and is about 10 feet square and just about tall enough to stand in.

"Fern," I call back, "come on through."

"Already on my way," she replies and a moment later she joins me.

"This is perfect," she says.

I nod. "Only danger is we could get trapped I guess, but I don't think our voices would carry outside, so no reason for anyone to realise we're in here."

"I don't think the gamemakers would let us just stay in here the whole time though," Fern points out. "We'd be being too boring, they'd set a mutt on us or cave us in or something."

"I'm not sure we've exactly been exciting viewing anyway," I say, "but your point still stands. We'll stay here now, but from tomorrow we should go wandering, only come back here to sleep."

"We'll have work out a way to find our way back."

"Maybe make marks on the trees with our knives," I offer with a shrug, "or just go really slow, look for markers. We only need to work out how to get back here from the river, because we can follow that easily."

"Whatever," she says, "we'll sort it out tomorrow."

We sit down and just talk for the rest of the day. Not the whole time, but the silences that punctuate our conversations our comfortable rather than awkward.

We get on to talking about our families. Fern had 49 entries in the reaping, having taken out tesserae for her father and three sisters, 14, 12 and 9, and a 2-year old brother. Her mother died of pneumonia a year ago, meaning she has to do a lot of looking after her siblings and housework while her father is working in the lumber mills.

It makes me realise how tough she's had to be, she's a very resilient person. I remember thinking while watching the reapings that she looked spirited, and think that while she might not be as skilled or strong as the careers or some of the others, she used to hardship, and that might be just be key. I'm certainly not ruling her out as a winner. That thought reminds me that only one of us, maximum, can survive, so I distract myself from the unpleasant thought by starting up a conversation about Grove, and what little Fern gleamed about him from the days before the Games started.

As the light coming through the ceiling diminishes from little to almost none- though it happens slowly enough for our eyes to adjust reasonably well to the darkness- we hear the anthem beginning to play.

"We should go see who died," I say, hurrying towards the tunnel.

We get up the tunnel and out into the darkening forest in time to see the face of Perrin appear in the sky, before quickly returning to our hideout before discussing it.

"Another career down," says Fern. "Do you think it was Jade?"

"Probably not," I say, after a brief pause to think. "I mean, she does seem a bit mental, but the careers normally hold their alliance until there isn't much else in the way of threats left, and Jeremiah and Grove got career-like scores and they're still out there. There's only two of them left now."

"No point thinking about it too much I guess," says Fern, "we'll never know for sure."

"Unless we win," I point out. She just nods in acknowledgement, a sad look on her face. Occasionally I forgot the fate we're trapped in, and when the realisation comes back it hits hard.

We talk a little more, but soon run out of things to say, and I'm asleep before I know it.


	18. Day 18- The Games (Day 11)

**Day 18- The Games (Day 11)**

We wake up the next morning, at least I assume that it's morning, its pretty hard to tell in this burrow but I've always been a pretty regular sleeper, to find a parachute outside.

"Wow," I say, eyebrows arching.

Fern is still behind me in the tunnel and can't see, so naturally her reply is, "What?"

"We've got a sponsor gift," I say, still unable to keep the surprise and a slight edge of confusion from my voice.

"Cool!" says Fern, emerging behind me as I give her more room, sounding much more enthusiastic. "Well," she says, "let's open it then."

"I suppose we'd better," I say, before doing so. It's food, and a good amount of it too. Probably enough to last us through to the end of the Games, unless something really extends it.

"Awesome," says Fern, giving me a high-five. "Why aren't you more pleased?" she asks after a moment.

"I am," I insist, "I'm just trying to work out what we've done to make anyone want to help us out."

She shrugs, "Who cares?"

I can't help but laugh a little at this. "I guess," I say. "I suppose we might as well have something to eat then."

Fern agrees and we have a good breakfast of bread and crackers and a little fruit and cheese, before heading off on our daily wanderings, taking a little of the food with us but leaving most in the burrow as we have quite a lot- it would weigh whoever's carrying the pack down, and I'd like to be able to chuck the pack if I needed to make a quick getaway from danger. We mark some trees with our knives in an effort to help us find the burrow again, while trying not to make it so obvious that anyone could find us. Soon enough we reach the river and, after drinking up, try and find a landmark. Nothing really stands out, but I have an idea.

"Let's tie some of the cloth to that tree," I say, pointing. "We can just follow the river until we see it and then follow our knife marks back to the burrow."

"Sounds good," says Fern, "we'll have to be careful of an ambush though, in case anyone else sees it and guesses that it's some sort of marker."

I nod my agreement. "You're right, but I can't think of an alternative and I really don't want to lose the burrow and the food. We'll just have to be careful like you say."

After we've done that we wander along the path of the river, though keeping to the thicker trees just away from the banks. We're constantly alert for danger, I keep my staff at the ready and Fern keeps an unsheathed knife in her hand.

After walking in silence for a while, Fern speaks up.

"They'll be interviewing our families now we're in the final eight."

I nod, but don't say anything in response. I really don't want to think about mom and dad and Kay, because after last night's conversation I've realised that when I do all I can think about now is not seeing them again, and that upsets me much more than any thoughts about being injured or killed.

Fern seems to sense my upset however, as she stops walking and puts her hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry," she says, a concerned look on her faces.

"It not your fault," I say, resisting the temptation to add that it's the Capitol's, "I just miss them. And if I concentrate on other stuff I can focus on surviving better."

She just nods sadly, and pulls me into a hug which I think is supposed to be reassuring, but I have to shrug off quickly as the squeeze really hurts my infected arm. Fern is full of apologies again, before switching to concern. "We really need to find something for that," she says. "I'm surprised you're still feeling okay, the infection's going to set in soon surely."

"I am feeling a bit weak today actually," I admit. "And I'm pretty warm."

"You should have said something!" she admonishes, putting her hand to my forehead. "You've definitely got the beginnings of a fever," she diagnoses, before striding off purposefully.

Conversation is sparse for the next few hours- Fern gets me to concentrate on looking and listening for danger as she rummages through the underbrush, doubtless looking for some sort of plant to help my arm.

Eventually, after we've resumed walking after stopping for some lunch, she lets out a low cry of happiness. "Yes! Rory this is it," she says, holding up a rather ordinary looking leaf.

"How can you tell?" I say, "It's just a big leaf."

"No! Look at the markings on the inside of the indentations…never mind!" she blurts at my blank expression, "it doesn't matter how, this leaf is really good for infected wounds, I've seen the family who own the apothecary use it on animal bites and stuff."

"Great," I say, cracking a genuine, if tentative, smile, "what do I do with it?"

"You have to really mush it up and rub it into the wound," Fern explains, "probably best if you chew it."

"It's not poisonous?"

"I've definitely seen people chew it before…I think," she adds, just as I've started to chew a mouthful.

I spit it out, but she's laughing. "I'm only kidding," she chuckles, "it's fine."

I glare at her as I take another bite, but can't help but smile too. It's not exactly easy to keep spirits high in this place. It's admirable she's trying.

An hour or two later however, my spirits _are_ high; the plant, whatever it is, Fern can't remember the name, has really worked. I feel a lot better, and can already move my arm a little more easily. A lot of pus is seeping from the wound, which, while pretty disgusting, is, Fern assures me, a good thing.

At what I guess is early evening, we start to head back in the direction of our base. We take a slightly different route back, having moved away from the river earlier as Fern searched for plants, but are forced to detour from the river again, as we spot the green lights on a section of trees that signifies they will release poisonous gas.

The last part of the walk is very tense and nervy. First we see boot prints in the soft earth near the river, headed the same way we are, and then a cannon goes off.

Fern glances at me, but we don't need to say anything. We want to get back to our burrow as quickly as possible. Thankfully we reach the tree we marked within about 10 minutes, and manage to follow our knifed trees back. Darkness is starting to fall by the time we get there, and satisfied that not hearing the hovercraft means the killer isn't in our vicinity, we sit outside the burrow's entrance to wait for the anthem.

It comes soon, to reveal that today's victim was Cinnamon, from district 11.

"I'd almost forgotten about her," I admit to Fern sadly, as her bright green eyes stare down at us for the final time.

"I know what you mean," Fern agrees, "I've been worrying so much about the careers and Grove and Jeremiah with their training scores that I'd not really thought about who else was left…"

"Well, one closer to winning," I say grimly.

"Yeah," replies Fern bitterly, "and one more family without their daughter…"

I simply bow my head. We both know what we think of The Games, but what can we do. To voice our thoughts about it in public would be virtual suicide, and while I'm sad about all the kids that have died, I'm not ready to be a martyr for them.

Fern obviously has the same thought, as she sits in silence for a few minutes too, before suggesting we head inside. I agree, as it's getting dark and I'm not feeling terribly alert anyway.

"How's your arm?" asks Fern quietly once we're sat inside.

"A lot better," I say, trying to sound positive. "Not perfect, but a lot better."

She reaches over to rest the back of her hand on my forehead for a few seconds. "Your fever seems to have gone too," she says with a weak smile.

"Yup," I nod firmly. "We're still in this."

"I can't believe we've not seen any of the others yet though…" muses Fern, "I know it's a huge arena, but the gamemakers usually try and force the tributes together by the final eight."

"Maybe they're forcing the others towards us," I offer, "there's a cheery thought."

"What's our plan then?" asks Fern. "I think we've gotten past the stage where we can just keep hoping we don't run into anyone. What do we do if we find someone- fight or run?"

"You run, I fight," I reply bluntly. The thought is not a pleasant one, but if we did run into Jade, I'd have to at least try and give Fern a chance to escape. There's no way we could beat her in a fight, even two-on-one, and she's far to fast to run from.

"What, because I'm a girl?" Fern replies. Her voice isn't raised, but the look she gives me is fierce. "There's a thin line between chivalry and chauvinism Rory."

"It's nothing to do with you being a girl," I explain. "It's do with me having a weapon I know how to use. No offence, but you're not going to beat anyone properly trained in a fight with that knife. If you had a sling then it'd be different."

"What if Jade catches up with us?" she asks. "No offence to_ you_, but you couldn't beat her in a fight with a proper staff, never mind one you've made yourself. Do we both run?"

"She too fast," I say sombrely, "even if we split up she'd catch one of us."

Judging by the look that crosses her face, a combination of surprise and softness, Fern seems to realise what that means, but she voices it anyway. "So are you saying you'd fight her to let me escape rather that take your fifty-fifty chance by running?"

I shrug, trying to display nonchalance that I'm not feeling. What I really want to do is tell Fern that of course I would, I care about her too much to leave her alone for Jade. Instead however, I say "It's probably not fifty-fifty to be fair. She's likely to go after me, what with my higher score. Plus I don't think she likes me much."

"I'm not sure she likes anyone much," Fern says with a rueful chuckle.

"Yeah, but I pissed her off," I insist. "The morning before we came in here I was awake early so I went up to the roof of the training centre and bumped into her. She threatened me and I acted all cool and not scared at all, even though I was a bit. Okay, a lot," I add with a grin as Fern shoot me a look after I've said 'a bit'. "Anyway, I don't think she was happy about that. It might be a chance in a thousand, but I still reckon I've got more chance of beating her in a fight than a race. Besides, if I am going to die, I'd rather die fighting than with a knife in the back running."

Fern nods and silence falls for a minute or so, before she says "I don't know if I could run and just leave you. I…I really care about you Rory."

My heart flutters at that, but my brain shouts it down. Only one of us can live. At most. It's pretty dark in here now, but I'm sure she's blushing.

"I care about you too," I say nervously reaching out to take her hand, "but only one of us can survive. The only way to make sure I survive is to die. Are you really ready to die for me? Do that to your family?" I stare firmly straight into her eyes as I say this. "You have to run if we see Jade."

"I...I-" her voice catches and she doesn't say anything else, but she does give the smallest of nods. I think she understands. I hope so at least.

"If we see Varro on his own, then we run together," I say, my tone to-the-point. "Anyone else we could fight or run."

"Okay," Fern manages to whisper.

The atmosphere is pretty awkward after that, I think both of us want to say more, I certainly know I do, but the situation just isn't right. We resolve to get some sleep, but, perhaps unsurprisingly at this stage in the Games, it isn't that easy.

For a while I just think I'm noticing the effects of my fever leaving me, as it seems to be getting colder. Soon, however it's far to cold for it to just be me, and Fern confirms it by starting to shiver noisily, even with the coat pulled around her already.

"This is ridiculous," she manages for articulate through chattering teeth. "Do you reckon they're trying to force us out of here?"

I shrug. "I'll go see if it's as cold outside," I reply simply.

"Rory!" she calls after me.

"What?"

"Please be careful."

"I will," I say, though I know as well as she does that a good reason for the gamemakers forcing us from the burrow would be the presence of other tributes outside.

A few seconds later however, I realise that doesn't appear to be their intention. It's just as cold outside, so they're not only targeting us. Maybe they just think all the tributes have been having it too easy recently.

I tell Fern so after heading back inside and she offers her own point of view. "They don't normally let people die of cold though, maybe earlier in the Games to root out the weaker tributes, but not in the final eight. It's too boring for the audience."

"I know," I say, "but that doesn't change the fact that it's far too cold to sleep like this." I gesture down to my clothing- just a t-shirt and fairly thin jacket.

She takes the coat off. "We can share this," she says, insisting over my protestations. "Plus you've got some more cloth in the backpack, stuff that down your shirt."

"Yeah, good idea," I say, neglecting to point out that I had already had the same one earlier in the Games. I have no idea why I hadn't thought of the same thing now. "Here," I say, offering her some cloth too. There isn't a huge amount, but it helps a little, and that's all that matters.

"We should probably…you know…" Fern mutters.

"What?" I say, genuinely, and understandably I think, not knowing what she's on about, though she does appear to be blushing again.

"You know," she says again, "like huddle…share body heat."

"Oh," I say in realisation. "Uh, yeah, of course."

Any eye contact we make as we try to find a comfortable way to huddle together is filled with awkwardness, but once we're settled that fades. I'm sitting on the floor with my back against the wall of the burrow, with Fern sat to my left, leaning towards my, her head resting at the top of my chest, my arms around her torso.

It feels very intimate, but not at all strange. It feels right, to be holding her like this, so much so that for a moment I forgot about the cold completely. The shared body heat definitely reduces the shivering, but we're still cold, and although Fern doesn't say anything and her face is hidden from me, I can tell I'm not the only one still too cold to sleep.


	19. Day 19- The Games (Day 12)

**Day 19- The Games (Day 12)**

It feels like hours and hours we lie there in silence, but I must eventually have fallen asleep, because my next conscious thought is waking up to find I'm no longer freezing, but Fern is still tightly pressed against my chest.

My thought that I didn't get an awful lot of sleep is confirmed by the fact I realise I'm still very sleepy, not at all alert. I don't even realise that I've started absentmindedly stroking Fern's hair until I stop abruptly as she stirs.

"Hey," I say, removing my arms from around her as she looks up at me. "I didn't want to wake you, but can I move now? My legs have gone to sleep."

"Oh, sorry," she says, blushing a little as she lifts herself off my torso. She seems to have been doing an awful lot of that recently I think as I stand up to stretch my legs.

After a short wander around our cramped hideaway, I turn to talk to Fern. "We're going to have to abandon this place sooner or later," I say, "I'm wondering if it might be better to do it before they force us out?"

Fern shrugs. "Maybe. I still think the Gamemakers won't be too keen to kill us at this stage, they prefer to let the tributes fight it out."

"Oh, I'm sure they could think up something entertaining enough for the audience," I reply. "But anyway, we can't leave just yet, we couldn't carry all this food easily, and there's no reason to waste it. We could either eat well today and leave tomorrow, or eat normally for the next two days and move out the day after tomorrow. How does that sound?"

"Okay I guess," says Fern weakly, still rubbing sleep from her eyes. "We'll just see how hungry we are today."

"We should go out for a bit first though," I say, "at least to fill up our water bottles."

She nods at me. "Now?"

I shrug. "Judging by the amount of light coming in," I say, gesturing to the hole in the ceiling of our burrow, "it's already late morning at the earliest. We might as well get it done."

"Okay," she says, sounding just a little more alert now as she clambers to her feet. "Let's go then."

I grab my staff and lead the way out of the tunnel, stopping to glance around for any sign of danger at the mouth, before, confident we're alone, ushering Fern forward to join me in the clearing. We head towards the river, vaguely knowing the way now, but still keeping a check on the trees we've marked.

I suddenly jolt round as Fern cries out from just behind me, raising my staff ready to attack, but quickly lowering it again as I see she's just slipped. I am forced to reconsider quickly however, she hasn't just slipped- she's slipped and hurt herself, judging by the pained expression on her pace and hand clutching her right knee.

"Are you alright?" I ask, crouching down beside her. "What happened?"

"There's a bloody hole," she hisses angrily, gesturing to her right foot. I see she is right, she didn't just slip, the ground appears to have given way as she stepped on some sort of small animal burrow.

"Can you stand?"

"Maybe," she winces, "it's wearing off a little bit." She wriggles her foot from the hole and plant her good foot, before, with my help, pushing herself to her feet. "Aargh! No, no way!" she exclaims as soon as she puts weight on her injured leg. I have to catch her to stop her falling back to the ground.

"Is it just your knee?" I ask, as she loops her arm over my shoulders to take the weight on her injured right side.

"Yeah _just _my knee," she snaps, "it bloody hurts!"

"Sorry," I say, "let's get back to the burrow." She nods wordlessly and I lead my limping ally back to our base.

Getting through the tight entrance tunnel is awkward for Fern, and she groans in pain a few times, before eventually sliding into the burrow where she can sit in relative safety. I roll up her trouser leg to examine the affected area. "Well, it's not dislocated," I say, "so you've probably done something to the tendons. Hopefully you've just strained them a little, because if you've torn them it's really bad."

"What do we do now then?" she asks. The pain and anger have faded from her face, now she just looks worried. Scared even.

"You'll just have to rest it for a bit, hopefully it gets a bit better," I say. "I still need to go and fill our water, so I'll bring back a branch for you to use as a crutch if you need to move."

"You can't go out on your own!" Fern exclaims, "get me a crutch now and I'll come with you."

"No, you need to rest it," I say firmly. "I managed fine on my own before we met up Fern. I'm just going to the river, it's only twenty minutes there and back, half an hour tops."

"But it's dangerous without someone to watch your back," Fern says, but her protestation is much weaker this time.

"It's the Hunger Games," I say dryly, "it's dangerous anyway, that's kind of the point." I had hoped that might raise a smile, but Fern still just looks worried and upset, so I try a little reassurance. "I'll be fine, don't worry."

"You can't possibly know that," she retorts, staring straight into my eyes, daring me to contradict. I obviously can't so instead look away. "I won't be long," I say and start to walk back to the tunnel.

"Rory!" she calls.

"Fern, I can't stay," I say harshly, spinning back to face her, "we need water, and you need to rest that leg."

"I know," she sighs. "Rory…I…just come over here a second."

I do so, squatting down next to her, "What is it?"

"I just…" she stutters, reaching out to take my hand, "just please be careful Rory."

"I will," I say. "It wouldn't be very polite to leave you all injured like this would it?" With that I start to stand to leave again, but Fern pulls me back down and before I can say 'what now?' she places her hands on my cheeks, and leans up to plant a soft kiss on my lips.

I'm too surprised to do anything other than stare at her as she pulls away, blushing and looking down. "Just go," she says, still not looking up. "But," she finally looks at me, and her eyes are filled with fear, "hurry back."

"I promise," I say, grasping her shoulder, before hurrying out.

I move as quickly as I think I can risk without being too noisy as I head towards the river. I'm also trying to keep my attention on my surroundings, constantly scanning for any sign of other tributes, muttations or lights on the trees, but it's difficult to not let it wander to Fern.

Thankfully nothing interrupts my mission, and I'm soon back at the burrow with full water bottles and a forked branch that should be about the right length for Fern to use as a crutch.

"Thank goodness!" Fern says as I re-emerge into the burrow, letting out an audible sigh of relief. She pulls me into a fierce hug after I hurry over to her, before I pull back just enough to kiss her properly.

Fern's hands are on the back of my head pulling me closer, as I deepen the kiss. For a few moments everything else is forgotten, the whole world is just the two of us, before I remember we are still in the Hunger Games.

I pull away as it hits me, but before I can say anything, I override my instinct. I'll deal with it later, for now I just want to enjoy the moment. After all, I might not get a whole lot more opportunities.

"I've been wanting to do that for a while," I say softly, my face still mere inches away from Fern's.

"And I've been waiting for you to do that for a while," she replies, smirking, before kissing me again.

"What are we doing?" I murmur as we finally pull apart again, "We can't both survive."

"Probably neither of us will," Fern replies quietly. "Wouldn't you rather be happy while you still can?"

"I…I suppose," I stutter, but can't quite keep the confusion and lack of sureness from my voice.

"Look Rory," she says firmly but softly, reaching out to rest her hand on my cheek. "I really really like you-"

"And I really care about you too," I say, "but-"

"But what?" she fixes me with a challenging look. "What can we gain from denying it? It would probably be easier if neither of us gave a damn about anything happening to the other, but it's a bit late for that isn't it?"

"Just a bit," I say ruefully, nodding.

"I don't know about you," she continues, "but it wouldn't have hurt me any less if you died yesterday or the day before than if you died today. In fact, it would have been much worse, knowing I'd never got the chance to let you know how much I cared about you."

"You're right," I say, "it won't change anything."

"So are you going to kiss me again?" she asks, smiling widely.

"Well, if you insist," I say with a smile, leaning in to give her another quick, gentle kiss.

"That it?" she pouts as I pull back.

"I'm still worried about your leg," I explain, "How is it?"

She shrugs. "It doesn't hurt, but I'm worried it might if I try and stand on it."

I nod, "Probably best if you rest it up today and see how it is tomorrow."

"Okay," she says. "Sooo, what are we going to do today?" She can't keep the grin from her face as she pretends to ponder the possibilities for a few seconds, before grabbing my jacket and pulling me into a kiss that washes away everything else.

We do nothing all day. We kiss a lot, hug a lot, talk about ourselves, stubbornly avoiding talk of The Games, and eat a couple of decent meals, before darkness starts to fall. When the anthem plays, I go and check the sky, but return to give Fern the news that no-one has died today.

A couple of hours later, just as we're thinking about getting to sleep, a ferocious roar, which sounds very close, jolts us to full alertness. I hold my finger to my lips in a shushing gesture, as it looks like Fern's about to say something.

There is quiet for a few seconds, before we hear another roar, only this time it sounds pained rather than angry. Shouting voices then joined the roaring, before the roaring is gone, replaced first by yelps of pain, then by a deep whimpering sounds, then a few seconds of silence before a cry of victory.

It's clear that a couple or more tributes have just killed a muttation, almost certainly one of the bears, and I think that means I know who it is. Sure enough, with the roaring now gone I can make out the voices and it is Jade who speaks first.

"Hey, cheer up Varro, you've finally got your third kill!"

"You know it doesn't count," came his gruff and emotionless reply.

"Whatever," she replies, sounding so normal that it freaks me out a little bit. "Pass my shuriken." And there we go, suddenly she's a terrifying fighter again, not a normal teenager.

"Get them yourself," comes the reply, which brings a smile to my face. They certainly don't sound like they're getting along and the sooner their alliance breaks the better for us. It might even lead to one of them killing the other, and although I feel awful for wanting that, it would really help our cause.

I can almost feel the glare I know Jade must be firing at Varro right now, but they don't speak again and I'm fairly confident, or at least hoping, that they've left the area.

Eventually I'm confident enough to speak to Fern, though only in a whisper. "Do you think they've gone?" I say.

She nods. "I hope so at least."

"Let's just get to sleep now then," I say. "If we don't hear them in the morning then we'll just have to check it out."

"Okay," she whispers back, before pecking me on the lips. "Goodnight," she smiles.

"Goodnight," I echo, managing to keep up the smile until her face is nestled against my chest, leaving me alone to my thoughts which try as I might I can't keep focused on Fern instead of the danger that we're going to be facing in the coming days.


	20. Day 20- The Games (Day 13)

**Day 20- The Games (Day 13)**

The next morning Fern woke before me, but barely, as I was stirred by the movement as she moved away from me. "Sorry," she apologised. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"No matter," I say cheerfully but quietly. "You heard any sound of Jade or Varro."

"Not a peep," she replies. "We gonna check it out?"

"How's your knee?"

"I guess we'll have to see," she says, gingerly pushing herself up, first putting her weight on her good leg, then slowly, grimacing, transferring it. A smile breaks out on her face as she does so. "It's not too bad," she says. "I can still feel that it's not right, and I'm not gonna try jumping on it or anything, but I think I can walk."

"That's great," I say with a genuine smile. "Let's go then."

I give Fern a hand climbing out of the burrow, not wanting her to risk that knee any more than absolutely necessary, but we're soon outside without too much hassle, to find a sponsor gift waiting for us, draped in its silver parachute. "Again?" I say, stunned, "Someone's really watching out for us,"

I check the area as Fern goes to open the package, but I'm fairly confident that Jade and Varro have moved on. The muttation's carcass is still in place though, with a couple of gaping wounds, clearly from Varro's sword.

Fern's voice jolts me back to the situation at hand. "It's a sling!" she calls out, trying to keep her voice down but barely managing such is her obvious delight.

"That's great!" I reply. "Either someone's got a soft spot for you or they're just a fan of a bit of romance."

She nods, before something seems to click. "Ha!" she exclaims, "Now I can fight too! You haven't got any reason for me to have to run now, not that I was going to anyway."

"I guess not," I say, much less enthusiastically. I know that Fern was never going to run and leave me alone, especially once we had kissed, she's too stubborn, but I also know that having a weapon, while making her more able to defend herself, will also make her more of a target. "Just don't go getting into a fight just because you've got it," I say warningly.

"Aww," she says in a childish voice, stepping over to ruffle my hair. "Are you worried about me?"

"You know I am," I say with none of her good humour, turning to look into her eyes, our faces inches apart.

"Hey," she whispers, cupping my face in her hands before kissing me softly. It goes on and on, neither of us wants to end it, but eventually I pull back. "I'll try to be careful," she whispers.

"We should get moving," I say, not wanting to go any further with a subject that I know will only lead to upset.

"Why?" she says. "We're okay for food and water, plus we don't know how far or which way Jade and Varro have gone."

"I don't think it's a good idea to stay still too long," I say, shaking my head. We should at least go to the river, collect some stones to use with your sling and top up our water. And besides, we're probably going to finish our food tonight and move out tomorrow, wasn't that the plan, we should start collecting some berries and stuff so we're not totally out."

"We could probably make the food last another day…" she mutters.

"No way Fern," I say, "I know that by leaving it we're really admitting we're right in the Games and that's not where you want to be, it's not where I want to be either, but we can't just stay holed up in that burrow. We'll end up trapped or worse, we're at the complete mercy of the gamemakers."

She sighs heavily, "I know. You're right, it'll just feel so real once we're back out in the forest. That little burrow has started to feel safe, even though I know it isn't."

"Come on," I say, taking her hand in my right, holding my staff in the other. "Let's go."

We wander to the river and I spend a while keeping watch while Fern collects stones to use as a sling bullets and refills our water bottles. We then wander around collecting berries and trying to get our bearings a bit and decide where we're going to go tomorrow.

We stop for lunch at an indeterminate time, each eating in turn while the other keeps watch before walking some more. We find Jade and Varro's trail, much more noticeable than the one we're leaving, with Varro's clumsy trampling of plants and heavy bootprints in the muddier bits of soil, and resolve to head in the opposite direction the next, day. I climb a tree to try and work out where in the arena we are, Fern having now taken my previous role as the one unable to climb a tree, and work out that we're fairly close to the edge of the forest and also, it looks like, the edge of the arena. Jade and Varro's tracks are heading back along the river closer to the lake where I met Fern and the Cornucopia beyond it, so it looks like we might have to go in a similar direction to them after all.

I'm just about to start climbing back down when a cannon fires. I freeze. It could be Fern. I daren't call out to her, so instead rapidly scramble back through the top layer of branches so I can see down to ground level. I finally feel like I can breathe again as I see her still standing there, safe and sound.

'Go up' she mouths up at me, pointing upwards for emphasis. I nod and do so, guessing that she's thinking what has just crossed my mind too- from the treetops I might be able to see where the hovercraft collects the fallen tribute.

I am proved correct moments later, as the hovercraft flies over, close enough that I catch a glimpse of the pilot in the cockpit, before dropping to near-ground level not too far from our position, near where the river bends before almost doubling back on itself.

Not waiting for any longer, I drop hurriedly to the ground. "We should get back towards the burrow," I say urgently to Fern, starting to walk even as I do so. "It wasn't far from us at all, near the river. I'm guessing either Jade and Varro turned on each other or ran into someone else, but we can't follow the river any further now."

"Okay, she says," quickly falling into stride alongside me. We are twitchy as we walk back, Fern holding her sling loaded and keeping her other hand on her knife, while I hold my staff in two hands and we are both constantly scanning around and listening out for any sound of anyone else.

The arena certainly isn't the place to make the most of the new change in our relationship, with all our attention focused on staying alive the whole time, but before too long, probably early evening, we are back at 'our' burrow.

As soon as we're back inside Fern wraps her arms around me and pulls me into a kiss which I gladly reciprocate. This goes on for a good while, before we just sit in silence before a bit, holding each other.

Eventually it is neither Fern nor I that break the silence, but the sound from outside of the anthem playing. We hurry outside, to see Varro's angry glare staring down at us from the sky. "Shame." I say coldly. "I was hoping he might have gotten Jade. Every tribute that dies increases the chances of us meeting her, which is something I really don't want."

"Look on the bright side," says Fern emotionlessly, "at least they can't double up on us any more. "If we do meet Jade at least we'll have her outnumbered. That has to count for something right?"

My mind says it will count for nothing if one us is killed by a shuriken within seconds, but I'm hardly going to say that to Fern, so I instead settle for. "Sure, I guess."

"So just six of us right?" says Fern as we re-enter our hole in the ground. "Us, Jade, Grove…"

"Jeremiah from eleven and Coulette, the little girl from three," I finish for her.

"I don't want to have to kill anyone," she says softly.

"Well hopefully you won't have to," I say. "Leave that to me."

"What if we're the last two left Rory?" she whispers, sounding terrified.

"Just don't…" I say, a slight edge to my voice. I can't bear to even think about that right know, never mind talk about it, and even though the alternative is just as awful, I push it from my mind. I can tell Fern understands, as she changes the subject hurriedly, though she's unable to hide the fact that as she does so, she is wiping away tears.

I feel my own eyes stinging too as she says, "There's been a bit of a shortage of gamemaker attacks compared to some other Games, don't you think?"

"Yeah," I reply, my voice not sounding quite right. "Just those tree lights. I'm sure there are some more colours of those that we haven't found yet." Even as I speak the final word my voice cracks and I feel my tears starting to break free, looking through them to see trickles streaming down Fern's cheeks too.

She tries to speak, but nothing comes out and suddenly I can't bear it anymore, so I do the only thing I can think of to change the situation, I lean in and kiss her, fiercely. She replies in kind as we obstinately ignore our tears and instead concentrate on each other. It's completely different to any of our previous kisses, filled with desperation, as if it could be our last chance, which for all we know it could be. The look Fern gives me when our eyes meet does nothing to change the annoyance I feel at the fact we're being filmed the whole time- but for that I feel like it could have gone further.

Eventually, after what seems like hours, we break apart, though barely. "We should really get something to eat before we go to sleep," I whisper, brushing some loose hair out of Fern's face before reluctantly pulling away and sitting up. "Keep our strength up."

She nods wordlessly and we eat in an awkward silence which continues after we are finished. Eventually Fern breaks it. "So is the plan to head towards the centre of the arena tomorrow?"

"I suppose so," I say tiredly. "Although I think we should aim for the mountain more than the lake, maybe head round the other side of it to the river where I was before I met you, seeing as Jade appears to be heading along this river."

"Will our water last long enough to get round there?"

"Should do," I reply, "if we're really desperate we can get some from the very end of the lake where we met without being near the river at all."

"Okay," Fern agrees quietly. "Shall we go to sleep then?"

I murmur in agreement, and we settle into each other's arms, with my prevailing thought that each new day is just new opportunities for it to be the last for one of us.


	21. Day 21- The Games (Day 14)

**Day 21- The Games (Day 14)**

My first conscious thought upon waking is that Fern isn't nestled against me. The second is that is seems very light for underground. The third is that something is falling on me. Jolting quickly to full alertness, I realise the burrow is starting to cave in!

Scanning around desperately for Fern I can't see her, but nothing large enough to crush her has yet fallen, though it's only seconds away surely. I have already started to move towards the exit tunnel, grabbing my staff on the way, when her screaming voice, seemingly from the direction of outside reassures me she if safe.

I just about manage to scrabble into the tunnel in time, and quickly crawl through it, worried that it might collapse too, though it doesn't appear to be, and also in a desperate hurry to reach Fern, confirm she's safe with my own eyes.

Thankfully she seems to be fine helping to pull me from the tunnel as I reach the end before pulling me into a crushing hug once I'm fully extricated. "Thank god you're okay!" she says.

"I'm fine," I say reassuringly, patting her on the back. "How come you were already out?"

"I was just getting some fresh air," she says, "it was getting really stuffy in there. We should go," she adds rapidly, "I was shouting pretty loudly, anyone could have heard."

"We need to get the pack," I say, "it's got our water, we can't go without it."

Fern seems like she's about to disagree, but instead sighs loudly, realising I have a valid point. "Let's look then, quickly!"

"Have you got your sling," I ask as I clamber down into the earth-filled hole in the ground. "Yeah," she asks, starting to follow me, "why?"

"I'll get the pack," I say, "it shouldn't be too difficult, you load up that sling and watch my back."

"Okay," she calls back, barely bothering to keep her voice down now.

Thankfully I am proved right, I am able to locate the rucksack fairly easily and it isn't too troublesome to dig out, while Fern is still holding her loaded sling as I climb out. "Let's go then," I say, pulling the backpack onto my shoulders. "You lead the way, set the pace. I don't want to go too fast for your knee."

She nods before setting off in what we think is vaguely the right direction at quite a brisk pace. Every know and then I climb a tree to confirm our aim is good or correct it if it isn't, but we don't encounter any sign of anyone else as we approach the mountain at a reasonable pace. We stop briefly for a small lunch of what remains of our food, a little squashed from its ordeal this morning but still edible, while taking just a few sips of water each. As usual we take turns to eat, the other keeping watch, while I also keep watch for a bit as Fern practises with her sling, correctly pointing out that she hasn't used this one yet and wants to get a feel for it.

She's actually a very good shot, after the first couple fly off somewhat wildly she is able to give the tree trunk she's aiming at a good peppering. Once she's satisfied we head off again, slowing down a little after starting quickly again.

We talk intermittently, mostly about plans and tactics, what to do if we meet people, where to find food, how long it will take us to travel and where we're eventually aiming for.

Suddenly, a horribly familiar flashing catches my eye. I look to my right, tapping Fern on the shoulder as I do so, to see a flashing red light on a tree trunk. Spinning around I see them all around us. "We're surrounded," I say to Fern, thinking as I do so that they have probably just been switched on- you would have to be checking very carefully to see the bulbs without the accompanying light.

"Do you reckon there's any hope they might not be about to do whatever they're going to do right now?" Fern says quietly, as though a loud noise could start off the chaos.

"Doubt it," I say, and as if on cue on explosion from behind us and a sudden wave of heat give me an idea what red lights mean, confirmed moments later as I see a fireball shoot in front of us, smashing into another tree. "RUN!" I yell, seeing no alternative despite the forest of red lights all around us- if we climbed we'd just end up trapped in a forest fire.

Sure enough there is no let up to the lights as we run and soon we're virtually running through the middle of a full on forest fire. It's hard to tell as I feel like I'm burning all over from the heat of the fire around us, but I'm sure I've got several burns and Fern is surely suffering just as much.

After a few minutes of running at breakneck pace I'm actually starting to think the fires are being controlled so as not to kill us. The fire is all around us, but there's always a route out and onwards. Nevertheless we keep running, Fern managing despite her knee, probably just because the adrenaline is keeping the pain at bay.

Eventually, without warning we are clear of the fire. I don't stop running, but do glance around as I do so, and see that there are no red lights around us. I glance across at Fern as we run, asking with my eye if she's okay to keep running.

She responds simply by continuing to forge on, until eventually a glance over by shoulder reveals no sign of the flames behind us anymore, nor any smoke.

"Fern, Fern…" I pant, utterly out of breath. "Stop." She doesn't need a second invitation, falling to the ground instantly, barely bothering to slow her run, without looking back.

I lie down beside her in a slightly more controlled fashion, grasping her hand as we just lie there, trying to regain our breath. She squeezes mine firmly back, our actions saying what our voices are too tired too.

After a few minutes have passed I feel like I have regained sufficient air in my lungs to attempt a conversation. "Are you hurt?" I murmur, rolling a little to face Fern.

"No worse than you," she replies softly, also turning to face me. I wince as I get a clear look for the first time. The right side of her head is badly burned, as is her left shoulder and her left side, around her hip. There are also plenty more small scorch marks covering her faces, arms, legs and torso. I look over my own body to try and determine my own injuries, seeing as I can't feel anything in particular- I just feel like my whole body is on fire.

The worst burns are on my right forearm and the back of my right leg, but like Fern I am covered, with plenty of holes in our clothes. "How about your knee?" I ask.

She shrugs. "I'll tell you when I stand up."

I sit up to remove the backpack from my shoulders, which is painful, to reveal it is unsurprisingly also burnt, but not beyond use thankfully. Retrieving the water bottles I hand one to Fern and we both drink as much as we think we can get away with, relieving our smoke-parched throats.

"They're driving us together," Fern comments after we've finished drinking.

I nod simply, not knowing what to say. It's what you expect at this stage of the game, but we know what it means for us, the only reason we're both still alive is because we've managed to largely stay clear of other tributes.

Eventually after a good rest, we are sufficiently recovered, though still burnt and aching, to silently agree that we need to continue and walk for the rest of the afternoon, though our progress is pedestrian, with Fern's aching knee slowing us even more than our tiredness already would.

The weather at least is pleasant as we decide to come to a stop around early evening time. The gamemakers could be throwing anything at us at this stage, but maybe it's just the calm before the storm, perhaps literally.

We have reached the base of the mountain that rises up from near the cornucopia and stop upon finding not a cave, but an overhanging of rock that provides a little shelter and cover at least, with Fern's injury meaning getting into a tree won't be possible.

"You should go up a tree," she insists after I tell her I'm staying with her, but I get her to quieten down pretty quickly when I tell her I would rather die than knowingly endanger her, and with both of us on the ground we'll be harder to attack and a less enticing prospect for a hunter, even if we were both asleep.

Her eyes soften as I explain this and I think she's going to kiss me, but instead she just pulls me into a fierce hug which actually means more I think. I wrap my arms around her too in response and we just hold on to each other tightly for several minutes.

The sound of the anthem breaks the moments, with the sky revealing no-one has died today.

"They won't let it go two days without someone dying at this stage…" muses Fern. I agree internally, but don't say so, trying to avoid negativity. Fern looks at me sadly, before saying quietly "It's such a shame we had to meet like this."

'A shame' seems to be putting it lightly, but it's a valid point, so I mutter a noise of agreement.

"But then again," she continues, seemingly unperturbed by my unresponsiveness, "if we hadn't both been reaped then we never would have met. Of course I wish it could have happened differently, but I don't regret meeting you Rory."

"I'm glad we got to meet too," I say, "I just…"

She puts a comforting hand over mine as I struggle to formulate what I want to say. "I know," she says simply.

"You think if…we weren't in this situation," I say, substituting out the words 'one of us didn't have to die', "we could have…"

Again I don't need to finish what I am saying, as Fern steps in. "I'm certain of it," she says. "I've always thought…" she hesitates for a moment- "that…that to be in love with someone you just needed friendship and attraction, but with you, it's something different, something more than that."

I'm fairly sure that she just told me she was in love with me, albeit in a slightly roundabout way, so I should probably respond in some way. The weary-sounding sigh that escapes me probably isn't the ideal way to start, but I roll with it. "I love you too Fern," I say firmly, "And I wish we could be together and get married one day and…" I trail off. "But at least one of us is going to die in the next few days, everything just hurts too much, talking about this, about us."

She shakes her head. "If you die and I win, I want to have no regrets. I needed you to know that I love you, and I need to have happy memories of just us, not of The Games."

I nod. "You're right," I say quietly, even as I lean in to kiss her. When Fern eventually pulls away, we rest our heads together, not saying a word until she suddenly whispers. "Rory, if I die and you win…"

"Please don't say that," I say, reaching up to stroke her cheek, careful to avoid where her skin is burnt from our earlier ordeal.

"I need to," she says, "Please Rory…I need to know that if I do die, you can promise me two things."

"Go on," I prompt.

"Promise me that you'll tell my family I love them."

"I promise," I say, pulling her closer with an arm around her shoulders.

"And promise me you'll still try everything you can to win, and…carry on with your life if you do, just…just don't forget me."

"Never," I say firmly, "I could never forget you."

"And the other stuff?"

"You said I only had to promise you two things," I say with a half-grin, trying to lighten the mood, "I counted four."

"Rory…" she says, a little pleadingly.

"Will you promise me the same?" I ask.

"Yes," she says firmly, looking straight into my eyes. "I promise."

"Then I promise too," I say. "I promise to try my best to win even if…if you die, and I promise that if I do, I will try and carry on with my life, and I'll tell your family you love them and I will never forget you."

"Thank you," she murmurs.

"You're welcome," I whisper back, before leaning down to give her a soft, short kiss.

"So," she says after a moment, "are we even going to try and keep watches?"

"Not unless you can stay awake," I reply, "I am shattered from all that running."

"We've hardly had anything to eat either," Fern correctly points out. "Are we just going to sleep then?"

"I guess so," I say, "there's only four others out there and it's a pretty big arena. And we're at least a little hidden away here. Besides, we have the advantage of being the last alliance, unless Grove and Jeremiah have teamed up with each other or Coulette."

"I can't imagine Grove making an alliance," Fern says, before yawning ferociously.

I am too tired to continue the conversation either, and within minutes we are both asleep, just as the rain starts to come.


	22. Day 22- The Games (Day 15)

**Day 22- The Games (Day 15)**

It has clearly been raining all night as I wake to find Fern already up, sitting a few feet away from me with her knife in one hand and her sling loaded in the other.

"They finally decided to unleash the weather on us?" I ask, blearily rubbing sleep from my eyes.

She nods in reply. "This rain is only getting heavier, and there's been thunder and lightning too."

"It feels colder too," I say, noticing it suddenly.

"Yeah," Fern agrees simply.

We eat a small breakfast of berries in silence, before getting ourselves ready to head off for the day- not a lengthy process.

"I think we should head round the base of the mountain the long way, away from the Cornucopia," I say, before explaining. "There's not likely to be anything of use still there and it's to open to stay well hidden and a perfect place for someone to spring a trap."

Fern nods. "Let's get going then."

"You lead the way," I say, "set a pace that's easy on your knee."

She does so, and we head off steadily but not slowly. I ache badly, from two weeks worth of walking through this place and sleeping rough in trees and on the floor, but also from the amount of sprinting we did yesterday. The burns are also a constant pain, if distracting rather than debilitating. I certainly don't feel in much condition to fight, I can only hope that if we do run into someone they'll be equally worn or injured from their time in the arena.

"So," Fern says suddenly, removing me from my thoughts, "we should probably talk strategy. What do we do if we see anyone else."

"I know we have to see all the others die to win," I say, ignoring the familiar jolt as I remember for me that includes Fern, and vice versa, "but as long as Jade's still out there I wouldn't say no to an alliance with anyone. I doubt Jeremiah or Grove would agree, especially as Jeremiah already refused me back on the third day. If they say no then I still don't want to attack anyone unless they attack us first. The more people alive the more chance someone else will kill Jade."

"I don't think I could kill the little girl from 3," Fern says sadly.

"Me either," I agree, "unless she attacks first. My conscience isn't that powerful that I won't fight back to save you or myself."

"So we ask for an alliance and only attack if we're attacked?"

"I don't want to turn into a killer," I say. "I don't want to, say, stab someone in their sleep, or kill someone unsuspecting with a slingshot."

"Unless it's Jade," offers Fern.

I nod. "She's too dangerous, and she's a horrible person. Just watch out for her shuriken if we meet her, those throwing spikes she has."

Fern nods. "I just hope she hasn't got a helmet or anything from a sponsor. Our best chance is probably if I can nail her in the head with one of these," she says, grinning ruefully and humourlessly and tossing a large stone in her hand before loading it into her sling.

As we continue to walk on, we are so on edge that the slightest noise startles us several times, not improving our moods. Fern has her sling loaded and ready and I'm holding my staff in both hands, ready to fight, as much as I can be.

Suddenly I hear something, it sounds like someone or something moving around, a combination of rustling plants and footfalls. It could easily be a harmless animal, or nothing, it wouldn't be the first time today, but it could be a tribute or a mutt, so I stop trying to listen again. I don't dare call to Fern, instead hoping she will realise I have stopped behind her.

She continues for a few more paces, before realising and turning to fix me with a questioning look. I put my finger to my lips and then cup my ear, indicating she should do as I am, and listen.

I continue to look at Fern as I listen, and notice her eyes dart right as if she has caught something out of the corner of her eye.

It's the last thing I ever see her do. Jade bursts out from behind a tree and is on Fern before she has a chance to react, grabbing her head and cutting her throat.

"NO!" I shout, collapsing to my knees as the cannon booms out. I can feel a tiny part of me telling to attack Jade, but it is shouted down by the despair that hits me like a flood as I catch sight of Fern's body crumpled at Jade's feet and the crimson staining over her and the ground.

As I feel the bile rising in my throat, I see Jade simply smirking at me and suddenly anger becomes the predominant emotion. "KILL ME TOO!" I scream at her with everything I can muster. "WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR!"

She pulls a vicious-looking long knife from her belt and I look down, preparing for the end. "With pleasure," I hear her say, sounding horribly smug, before she makes a strange sort of grunt. I jerk my head up just in time to see her collapse face down into the ground to the sound of cannon fire, revealing the axe buried in her skull and the giant figure of Grove stood behind her.

We just look at each other for a few seconds, before he glances down at Fern's body sadly.

"You didn't mean that did you?" he says in his deep, quiet voice. "You don't really want to die?" He seems to take my silence as a no by his next and final words. "I'll let you grieve. Next time you see me you better be ready to run or fight."

And with that he's gone, pulling his axe from Jade's skull with a horrific noise and striding off into the trees. I can't bring myself to stand, but I do chance a hate-filled glance at Jade's body. She's wearing plenty of armour but without a helmet it didn't help her in the slightest.

Moments later I hear the hovercraft approaching. As the sound grows louder it stirs me into action. I crawl over to where Fern lies, trying not to see the death wound in her neck as I look at her for the final time. I reach out to close her lifeless eyes and feel like I should say something too, but I can't think of anything appropriate, and besides, she won't hear it…

Instead I simply take her hand in mine, only relinquishing my grip when the hovercraft lifts her body into the air.

I don't know how long I stay there for, but it has to be many hours. I can't even cry, I hurt too much to express any emotion. Eventually I get up and start walking, but it's aimless, paying no thought to which way I'm going or where I'm aiming for.

I chance a glance at the sky when the anthem plays, but being able to see Fern's face one final time is small consolation for the redoubling in my pain that it brings. Finally the tears break free, silent but relentless as I continue to walk, barely noticing the intensifying pain from my burns. It's been dark for hours when I finally stop walking, my body simply giving up. I fall to the ground and am asleep almost instantly.


	23. Day 23- The Games (Day 16)

**Day 23- The Games (Day 16)**

When I wake I ache a lot from sleeping on the uncomfortable ground, but it's nothing compared to the pain that hits me when I remember what happened the previous day. Having not removed my pack to sleep, I just grab my staff, get up and walk again, my head filled with nothing but regrets, what if's and sadness.

At some point I reach the edge of the forest, seeing the river a few miles away ahead of me. I put just about enough thought into it to not walk out into the open, instead turning left to head along the edge of the forest, back in the vague direction of the town in the far distance.

Suddenly I'm shocked by the sound of a cannon firing. It feels like ages since I've heard one. The ones yesterday barely registered, so it must have been…I stop to actually think about something for the first time since before it happened. Three days ago when Varro died would have been the last time I heard a cannon. We heard a cannon I correct myself sadly, remembering Fern sending me back up into the tree to see where the hovercraft had gone. Three…why is that sticking in my mind?

Abruptly I realise. I'm in the final three. Jade, the last career, is dead. I could win. It's a long way from being certain, or even likely, but for the first time I genuinely think I have a chance of surviving. It doesn't necessarily feel that enticing right now, as I can't imagine the pain I'm feeling fading…

But I promised Fern. I promised her I would try. I can do this, I have to do this for her. And my family, I have to try so they can see me again, I need to see them again, I need my mom to hug me and tell me everything will be okay.

Suddenly I realise, remember really, that they will be watching this. So I speak, though it requires quite an effort, bringing about the realisation that I haven't drunk since yesterday morning. "Mom, dad, Kay," I say simply. "I'm going to come home."

With what I hope is a determined look into one of the cameras that I know will be recording me, I stride off, pulling my water bottle out of the pack to have a drink as I do so. Feeling much better after having some water, I'm glad I didn't leave my staff behind yesterday. It was very much automatic rather than a conscious decision to pick it up when I left.

I have no way of knowing who's died until this evening, so don't even try to guess, but I do have a horrible feeling about Coulette. I think back to her interview, how she said she wouldn't be afraid to kill, and worry that everyone, me included, may have badly underestimated her.

I stop after a while to have the last of my berries for lunch, though I'm sure it's closer to the evening than lunchtime, and take a quick inventory. I haven't got any more food, but The Games will be over soon now, one way or the other, I may not even need any more. With the second water bottle, Fern's water bottle, still being in my bag I have plenty of water and anyway, the river's nearby, while I am armed with my staff and knife. The only other thing I could wish for is armour but there is no way I'm getting any. I also still have various bits of cloth and metal in my pack and although I can't think of a use for them I am loathe to throw them away.

I am about to start walking again when I see a sponsor gift falling towards me on the familiar silver parachute. I am surprised, but immensely thankful. It looks like not everyone in the Capitol is totally unsympathetic to our plight. It turns out to be a cream to soothe my burns. It's far from the wizardry of the paste that healed Tamla's wound what seems like a lifetime ago, but it does cool down the burning of my skin. "Thank you," I say quietly but firmly to the cameras, before, with a groan of effort, hauling myself to my feet and walking on despite aching everywhere.

I haven't been going for long when the anthem plays, I obviously walked for longer than I realised earlier, I had no idea it was quite this late in the day. After a few moments of waiting the tribute that died earlier is revealed to be Grove. I am slightly upset, realising I will never get the chance to thank him for both saving and sparing my life, but a more cynical part of me is relieved that I won't have to fight him.

I continue to walk towards the snowy section of the arena. I consider changing direction, but despite the help of my sponsor gift the cool snow seems attractive right now as my skin is still very sore. As I walk I consider my two…opponents. Coulette, the little fourteen year-old from district 3; she's less than 5 foot tall and only scored a four in training, but I am worried about her. I try to recall her face; round cheeks, bright green eyes, all framed by shoulder-length light brown hair, and as I do so there's a terrifying look in those green eyes that I can't recall being there in actuality. Jeremiah is the other remaining tribute. He's a year younger than me at 17, but bigger, probably 6 foot 3 or 4, slim but muscular. He got a 10 in training, I have no idea where from, and came across as gentle and intelligent, albeit with some definite hatred directed towards The Games and The Capitol.

It's just starting to get dark when I tense up. Something has caught my eye and a small sigh escapes me as I realise what it is. A flashing light on a tree. This is getting old. It's not one I've already seen though- red was fire, green was gas, blue was lightning…what'll yellow be?

Before I have a chance to think about it, it is revealed to me as I feel my feet starting to press deeper into the ground. For a second or two I hesitate, both physical and mental tiredness holding me back, but the self-preservation instinct kicks in, and I run.

It is horrifically tiring, as I quickly realise I can't run normally, the heavy steps make it hard to lift my feet again- instead I have to basically pretend I'm running over hot coals, touching the ground as briefly and lightly as possible.

Thankfully, because I don't think I could have kept going for much longer, once the arena is completely dark I reach the snowy section and the quicksand vanishes. I assume that the purpose of it was to force us all back into this side of the arena, and find myself hoping for my sake that Jeremiah and Coulette were further away than I was.

Not yet tired, I continue to walk and soon reach the river. The water is as clear as ever and there is just enough…not moonlight, fake moonlight I guess, for me to see my reflection. It isn't exactly mirror quality, but I can tell how much of a mess I look. I still can't get over the fact I haven't got the slightest hint of facial hair after over two weeks in here thanks to the Capitol's treatment, but my face is still a mess, burnt, dirty and gaunt. Confident that no-one's around I have a quick drink from the river before deciding it's probably time to at least try to sleep. If nothing else then I should get up a tree where I'll be less vulnerable- I don't feel at my safest in the darkness.

I'm surprised at the sudden surge in tiredness I feel once I'm secured in the branches of a sturdy tree, but don't try to resist the urge as sleep comes. I'm soon awake again however, not unusual as a tree branch isn't the most comfortable bed- except this time as I shift my position to prepare to try and go back to sleep I see the flashing green light about a foot from my face.

I feel like yelling out in frustration, but manage to restrain myself, deciding that drawing attention to myself like that would not be a good idea, so instead grab my staff and hurriedly clamber down, managing to briefly think how amazingly natural tree climbing to me now, considering I'd never even had the opportunity to climb a tree before The Games.

As I drop the last few feet to the ground, with the gas starting to hiss out of the trunk, I freeze in place when I should be turning and running. Standing maybe thirty metres away from me, through the trees, are two of the white bear mutts. And they're looking at me. It feels like an age I'm stood there, but in reality my mind is probably made up in seconds. As much as I'm loathe to turn my back on them I need to run anyway or the gas will finish me if they don't. So I turn and sprint off as hard as I can.

Running for my life, I'm expecting to feel one of the bears slam into my back any second, but although their low growls let me know they're after me, they're surprisingly slow. I daren't look back though, at least not until my curiosity is grabbed by a change in the noises they are making, going rapidly through anger to pain and then more of a whimper than anything else. Daring to turn to see what is going on, I stop.

I shouldn't be surprised at this stage of The Games, but the gamemakers are not going to give us a break now. Hundreds of muttations, huge rats, are swarming all over the bears. I have just enough time to notice that within seconds they have taken some serious chunks of flesh out of the bear, before I realise a few a starting to advance towards me and run again.

Chancing a look back this time, a couple of minutes later, I can barely see the snow directly behind me, covered by a carpet of rats. They are not quick enough to catch, me and I don't have to run flat out, but soon enough I realise how tireless they are, closing on me as I start to cramp up. I pull out the last of my reserves and continue to move on at a brisk jog, for several more hours. At one point I catch a glimpse of movement through the trees and with a closer look I realise it's Coulette, also running.

They're obviously forcing us together, ready for the endgame, but moments later she's out of sight again, her run angling away from mine.

After god only knows how long the trees suddenly break. I'm back at the abandoned village, where I came right at the start of The Games, what seems like months or longer ago, but in reality was about two weeks ago.

I continue to sprint toward the nearest building, but a quick glance back reveals the mutts have stopped at the edge of the forest. This is it then, Coulette and Jeremiah will be at the town within minutes, if they're not here already. Quickly I hurry through the buildings, expecting to be attacked at any moment, but no-one else is here and I make it to the warehouse and scurry into the same hiding place I used to hide from the careers back…well, back when they were all still alive.

I am very grateful I've managed to get in here unnoticed, because I need to sleep so badly, and, knowing it's likely to be either my last sleep of the games or my last sleep ever, I quickly drift away.


	24. Day 24- The Games (Day 17)

**Day 24- The Games (Day 17)**

I've lost all semblance of time over the last couple of days, and the fact I have no way of seeing outside from here doesn't help, but I'm sure we're well into the day when I'm woken by Claudius Templesmith's voice echoing around me.

"Tributes of the forty-ninth Hunger Games! Congratulations on making it to the final three. This is your 17th day in the arena, all of you have had your own struggles, but you have still survived. None of you have eaten anything significant for at least two days now, so, for your efforts, we will reward you with a feast."

I scoff to myself. Reward. As if, it's just an attempt to draw us all together and force us to kill people we have nothing against.

"There is also another incentive for attending," he continues, "should you be thinking you can last without food for a few more days. If all three tributes attend the feast, then the first tribute to kill another shall be separated from their final opponent for ten minutes or so, in which time they shall be rewarded with a superb weapon which should make their final victory a mere formality. We hope to see you in the largest building in one hour, and may the odds be ever in your favour!"

When he is finished, I shift position- I would like to sit up but there's no room- and consider my options. I could just stay here, not attend, that way neither of the others could get the 'superb weapon', but at the same time I just want this thing to be over, one way or the other. I'm also not sure how much longer I can stand to stay in this cramped little shaft.

After a few minutes of deliberation, I decide that I can see which of the others attend from this hiding place. If only one or neither of the others show up then me attending won't activate the award of the weapon, and I may as well get some food. Although I am unsure of whether Jeremiah or Coulette would want to fight even without the reward of the weapon, or would rather eat first.

I'll see how I feel in an hour I decide. It's an hour which takes a long time to pass, before eventually, to my surprise, the floor slides upon, producing a banquet table from underneath the ground, covered in an absolute ton of food. For a split second my first thought is whether I could get through to wherever the food came from but it has finished rising before I can really think, and I quickly realise it would have been pointless anyway- I could hardly have escaped, I would have just been captured and either sent back into the arena or killed outright.

I decide to wait for a while to see if the others arrive, and sure enough Jeremiah lopes in a few minutes later. He looks around warily for a while, but can't see me, before starting to eat. He appears to be armed only with a knife. I guess ten minutes or so must have passed and Coulette still hasn't showed, so on a sudden impulse, I decide to reveal myself.

He spins round at lightning speed, knife held out in a defensive stance as I drop out of my hiding place. I daren't put my staff down, but hold my hands up to show I'm not about to attack.

"Shall we just eat?" he asks. He sounds tired. "Try and make it to the final two before we try and kill each other?"

"Sounds good to me," I say calmly, staying well clear of him as I move round to the far end of the table and start to eat too, my staff resting against the table and my knife next to my plate. I noticed Jeremiah is only picking at his food, and I've not had much at all when I start to feel very full too, a little sick even.

I'm considering leaving, now that my hiding place is compromised, when Jeremiah calls out. "Look out!"

I jerk back in my chair out of surprise, not even having time to register what he said until Coulette slams onto the table in front of me, a tiny blade in her hand. She jabs it towards my neck, but I'm quicker, snatching up my own knife and slashing reflexively it in a wild arc in front of me.

She cries out in pain, falling back, and I see I've cut her across the arm quite badly. For a second I hesitate, a large part of me still wants to apologise, see if she's alright, before I remember the situation I'm in and lunge forward again.

This time she's too quick however, rolling back off the table and breaking into a run towards the exit. I know I'll never catch her, so simply watch her flee, her right arm limp, as Jeremiah goes to cut her off. Suddenly I panic- if he kills her now he'll been given the weapon! And I will have helped him. Frozen in my seat I can only sigh in relief as she beat him to the exit. He disappears after her, but is back a few seconds later.

"No point chasing her now," he says, not finishing the sentence with 'now that I won't get a weapon for killing her'. "Maybe she'll bleed out."

"Why did you warn me?" I ask pointedly.

He simply shrugs back at me. "Honestly don't know," he replies tersely. "Natural reaction I guess."

"I wonder how she got up there," I muse, looking up at the beam that she must have dropped from, but it's more a thought out loud than a question to Jeremiah, and sure enough he doesn't respond.

He doesn't sit down, having apparently had his fill, while I grab a couple more bits of food, some bread and fruit to put in my backpack, noticing that he doesn't appear to have one, when a thought comes to me. "Did you kill Grove?"

"Nope," he says, "you didn't?"

I shake my head. "Must have been her."

"Looks like it," says Jeremiah monotonously, before turning away and heading for the door.

"Thanks," I call after him, "for warning me about Coulette. I know we're probably going to try and kill each other next time we see each other, so thought I'd get that out of the way."

"Whatever," he says, stopping, but not looking round, "like I said, it was just a reaction."

"I'm still grateful," I say, and with that he's gone. I give him a few minutes then head outside too; staff in hand, wary he could be waiting to ambush me. He doesn't appear to be however, so I set off to search for Coulette, exactly what Jeremiah's doing too I'm sure. I realise as I do so that for the first time in The Games I'm actively hunting other tributes, and I remember back to my mother's words in the justice building- 'don't let them change you into a monster'. I stop to think briefly but soon press on. Coulette and Jeremiah are going to have to die for me to get out of this, and that's the most important thing, for mine and my family's sake. It's selfish, I know- I'm sure they both have families they want to be reunited with too, but I'd rather be selfish than dead, and that's the straight-up choice right now. Like I said, they need to die, I'm just going to speed up the process, and hopefully make it as painless as possible for them. That was the one tiny light in the dark of Fern's death I realise in hindsight- at least it was quick. I've seen careers in past games torture their victims in some pretty horrific ways, so I suppose for all her victims it was fortunate in a way that someone with Jade's killing skill didn't have that desire, she just wanted everyone dead quickly.

I'm brought out of my internal monologue by the realisation that there's a bloodstain on the wall I'm passing. I check it to find that it's definitely very fresh, and given the height it is at I'd very surprised if I wasn't from Coulette's injured arm.

However, I can't see any more, so just wander around the buildings aimlessly, constantly on edge, listening as well as looking for my two opponents.

Not that it's any guarantee, but the gamemakers seen to have kept the lighting fairly regular this Games, and if they're still not messing with it, dusk is approaching fast, when a cannon fires.

There we go…twenty-two down, one to go. Here's hoping it's not me. When the hovercraft comes swooping down moments later I hurry off to its position, and although I can't get there before it leaves I have a good idea of where it was. Sure enough, after slowing to a walk for a couple of minutes I come across, to no surprise of mine, Jeremiah, standing in one of the larger streets between the buildings.

He's holding a knife in one hand, which I can see clearly, even from about fifty metres away, is covered in blood, of which there is more splattered one the ground and wall he is stood near.

To my surprise he speaks first. I hadn't been expecting him to say anything before attacking me, but he simply states. "I guess this is it then."

I nod back at him. "Final two can't meet and not fight- the Gamemakers would unleash something awful on us."

He nods determinedly and starts to advance, knife upraised. I approach too and once we're close we start to circle, staring each other down. After a minute or so a lightning bolt fires down from the previously clear sky and it starts to rain- a message from the Gamemakers to get on with it, I think.

Jeremiah lunges.

I parry with my staff and try to use the extra reach to attack him while out of range of his knife blade. I land a good blow on his shoulder then think I've disarmed him with a hard blow to the wrist of the hand holding his knife, but he shrugs it off and slashes horizontally at me. I jerk my waist backwards, but feel the blade slice across my stomach. Hopping back again, I chance a glance down. There is a thin line of blood staining my shirt, but I think I'll live for now. Too close.

I attack with desperation and determination, parrying his knife blows in between swinging blows at him. He's able to counter me however, by blocking my attacks with his forearms. It must hurt, but I can tell he's very tough, stronger than he looks, and it's stopping me landing any blows on his head or midriff, where I could really incapacitate him.

I definitely feel as though I've got the upper hand though, probably due to being much more familiar with my weapon, and try to go for his legs, hoping to knock him off his feet. He's quick as well as strong though, and dodges, though I am forcing him backwards. Suddenly I see a parachute falling…behind Jeremiah. He spots me glancing and takes advantage of my momentary distraction to race for it. I'm right after him, but he's quicker- and is able to grab the one-handed axe that broke out of the container as it landed. As he's turning I lunge at him with the sharp end of my staff but he rolls away, and I barely get my weapon back up in time to block the swing of his axe at my head. He's back on his feet and we continue the fight, Jeremiah now dual-wielding his knife and axe. Soon I realise I'm now the one on the defensive. The axe is much more fluid in his hands the knife, and is also heavier, taking more effort to block. Having two weapons to block mean I have much fewer openings to attack, and when I do manage to strike at him he blocks with the axe handle, saving his arms from a further bruising.

After several minutes of sparring I'm starting to tire and my stomach is beginning to sting and feel moist with blood. All the movement I'm doing is probably stretching the wound open. Jeremiah shows no sign of letting up, so while I block almost automatically I formulate a plan- I can't win this fight fair now.

Hopping backwards after blocking yet another attack, I holding my staff upright, slightly diagonal- so it covers my face, right shoulder, chest and left hip, but leaves my left shoulder conspicuously open. He falls for the trap, swinging his axe in his right hand into my shoulder and collarbone. His eyes light in triumph as I cry out in pain, but my right hand still has a firm grip on my staff and I take advantage of his distraction- he thinks he's won, but instead he receives my staff point in his stomach. I drive it in as hard as I can manage- he sort of grunts in pain, doubling over a little, and when I hear his weapons drop to the ground and see his hands instinctively reaching towards the wound I know I've won.

With no feeling of triumph I pull the staff out, drop it and take up my knife. He doesn't resist as I take my knife and hold it up to his throat. "I'm sorry," I say quietly, before steeling myself and cutting firmly from ear to ear. Blood spews everywhere, and I feel the bile rising as I see him gasp for breath that can't come, before the life leaves his eyes. A few moments later his brain is starved of oxygen, and the cannon fires.

"Congratulations!" booms out the voice in the sky, "Ladies and Gentlemen, I present the winner of the Forty-Ninth Hunger Games, Rory Jordan of District Eight!"

I barely hear it, just standing there numbly as I wait for the hovercrafts that will collect Jeremiah's body and take me out of the arena. I try to force my sister and parents' faces into my mind, think of seeing them again soon, but am only able to raise the briefest and weakest of smiles before their faces are replaced by those of Jeremiah, Tamla and Fern, staring at me with lifeless eyes.

The hovercraft's crew have to almost drag me into the vehicle, and I don't resist at all when I'm jabbed with a needle, that has me feeling very drowsy very quickly and soon I've passed out.


	25. Day 25- Recovery

**Day 25- Recovery**

I wake up to find myself almost blinded by the whiteness of the room I'm in. It takes a few seconds to process where I am and why, before it all comes flooding back. I'm lying in a bed in a small room, bare save for a single door and a trolley filled with medical equipment to my left. I ache all over, but other than that nothing really hurts, even when I try to move, shuffling so I can sit up. Lifting up the plain white shirt I've been dressed in, I see no remnant of the wounds to my stomach or shoulder save for a pair of lines where the skin is lighter. Movement in my left arm appears unimpaired too, which certainly wasn't the case in my last moments in the arena, the doctors have obviously been busy while I was asleep, or drugged I correct myself, remembering the injection I received as I was taken out of the arena.

I'm really not looking forward to all the attention I know I'll receive from my team, but their arrival is almost a relief after a couple of hours alone with my thoughts, which are almost exclusively depressing.

Iulia, Rogellus, Fabricius, Tullia and Aquilina are all apparently genuinely delighted, hysterically happy, kissing me on the cheeks and shaking my hand enthusiastically. I know it's not anything to do with relief at me surviving though, just that they'll all get their own share of fame at a success which is theirs as well as mine. Success, I ponder to myself- I suppose it is, insofar as my aim before The Games started was to get back home, but seeing my first real girlfriend killed and then killing an innocent guy myself doesn't fit most definitions of success.

I barely take in anything my visitors say, replying simply and unenthusiastically when they ask something, not that any of them seem to notice. What I do notice, is Woof, standing away from the hubbub by the doorway. He eventually comes over to congratulate me when prompted by Iulia, but as his eyes meet me I realise the obvious; he is the only one who understands. I hope I'll have a chance to speak to him alone, and sure enough he soon gruffly ushers the rest of them out, insisting I need my rest. They leave, with Tullia giving me a promise of the best makeover ever tomorrow, which fills me with dread, and Woof sits on the edge of my bed and looks critically at me.

"How are you?" he asks, "Be honest."

"I feel..." I pause for a good while, trying to think of the right word. "Numb."

He nods understandingly. "The only people who come out of the arena happy are those who are prepared for what they went through. Even a lot of the careers aren't in that category, and virtually none of the non-career district winners." He pauses for a moment, before continuing when I say nothing. "And you may have had quite a quiet Games for a victor, but you went through more than most."

"I…" I stutter, "I keep trying to picture my parents' and sister's faces, but all I can see is…them." He knows who I mean.

"The people you killed, the people you saw killed, even the ones you just knew from training and know died- they will never leave you. It will always hurt, but it will ease. It might get worse first mind you, but one day it will start to ease."

"It's just so hard to accept," I say, a slight hint of anger creeping into my voice. I choose my next words carefully, mindful that we could well be being listened to here, "knowing that their deaths weren't an accident."

"I understand," he says, before adding forcefully "but there's nothing you can do." I hear that as the warning I'm sure it is- don't say or do anything stupid or the Capitol might arrange an 'accident' for me and it will all have been for nothing.

"I know," I mutter, to let him know I understand.

"I don't know how your story ends Rory," he says. "You might be able to escape the pain at night, or you might have nightmares for the rest of your life. You might find a job, a hobby something to take your mind off it a little, you might not. You might get married, have children, you might not. Whatever happens it certainly won't be easy, but there will be moments, I don't know how many but they will exist, moments that you're glad you survived and where you realise you couldn't have had everything else that happened not happened. And I'm not talking about the monetary rewards or the house in the victor's village, or the fame. All of those can just make it harder to avoid the memories; I'm talking about moments with your family or where you see the good your victory has done to someone else in the district."

I feel like I should be able to reply in much more depth, but instead I just look him in the eye and say, "Thank you." Not because he's made me feel better, but his advice is good, I think, and his words have helped me focus my scrambled thoughts a little.

"Hope I made some sense," he replies. "Well, I'll let you get some rest now, try to sleep if you can. Try and switch off as much as you can for your makeover, don't take anything out on them. Your victor's interview will be later tomorrow. I'm sure you already know, but you will have to watch back highlights of The Games, try and prepare yourself, because you really mustn't flinch away from them. I'll have a proper talk with you about the interview tomorrow."


	26. Day 26- Victor's Interview

**Day 26- Victor's Interview**

I go through my makeover barely conscious, finding that the trio don't really notice if I reply to their ramblings or not. Rogellus shows no sign of understanding my mood either, but at least my time with him is brief.

Suited up, I am directed through to a waiting room from which I will enter the room where I will be crowned. Woof is waiting for me.

"Can you do this?" he asks.

After a few moments of genuine contemplation I nod. "I just want this all over and behind me," I say. "I don't think I'll really manage enthusiasm, but I'll at least stay calm, maybe thank my sponsors, say how honoured I am to win."

"As long as you can fake it well enough, sounds good," he says. "President Snow doesn't care if you are delighted with winning or crushed totally, as long as you do nothing to suggest the Games are wrong, the Capitol isn't great or the districts have it hard."

"Anything that even hints at rebellion," I say, confident that Woof's candid words mean he is confident this conversation is truly private.

He nods solemnly. "They're ready for you," he says, seeing something behind me.

"Thanks," I say, nodding at him, before stepping onto the elevator that takes me up into a packed stadium-like room. Tiered crowds surround me, with a pair of chairs off to my right, Caesar Flickerman in one, a podium ahead of me and President Snow seated in a throne to my left, while a glance around, as I try a tentative smile and raise an acknowledging hand to the cheering crowd, reveals a huge television screen behind me.

Claudius Templesmith's voice, I can't see where from, announces me as the winner again, before Caesar ushers me over to him. He stands to shake my hand and congratulate me before gesturing for me to sit.

"Well congratulations Rory," he says enthusiastically.

"Thank you," I reply, though it is lost under the sound of the crowd cheering again.

"How are you right now?"

"Tired," I reply, and though I didn't intend it that way, the crowd chuckle at that. I "And relieved," I decide to add, thinking I should reply with more than a single word, "I wasn't sure I was going to make it a few times in there."

"Neither were we," says Caesar, "but before we talk about those times, let's all remind ourselves of them. President Snow, Rory, Ladies and Gentlemen, I present the highlights of the 49th Hunger Games."

And I have to re-watch the entire games, which is horrific. But I don't dare look away, for fear of getting in trouble. Claudius and Caesar's commentary only makes it worse, making light of our plight, but I try to hide my distaste, teeth gritted in anger.

First I see the deaths at the bloodbath in full. Jonathan was first to fall, via Cleo's arrow, then I relive Varro's savage murder of Clarissa and Mitro. I see Grove knock Silver to the ground to escape him, Shayla's evil smirk as her arrow buries itself in Alecto's skull, Barr's chest explode as Perrin hurls a spear through it and Cleo and Jade racing light-footed across the snow, catching Syme and Daisy respectively, Cleo cutting the boy's throat and Jade breaking Daisy's neck.

I get a chance to hear the careers' conversation after Jade kills Silver. "I heard him talking to our mentor about getting us in our sleep," she says, "he couldn't be trusted, he had no honour. Besides, he's not much of a loss; he couldn't even kill the boy from 7." The other four murmur agreement and all is forgotten seemingly.

I see Kyla's terrified face as she runs from the careers until Jade catches her and slams a knife into her neck. I see Carson at the feast, not making it 20 yards before Jade's shuriken cuts into his skull, as well as reliving my raiding of the supplies, meeting with Jeremiah and a lot more seemingly insignificant highlights of me.

Zianna tries to sneak up to the Cornucopia, and actually succeeds as Cleo and Varro talk, but Cleo spots her leaving with a backpack and knife and nails her with an arrow through the skull.

Next I see Cleo's delight as she catches Tamla, and I can't help but wince as her knife cuts Tamla's side as my district partner tried to dodge. Then the terror on both their faces as the bear bursts into view, raking Cleo across the chest with its claws before she stabs an arrow into its eye, and it runs.

Then I see Cleo's death, and it's not what I expect. She makes it back to the other careers, well Varro, at the Cornucopia, and Jade and district 4 soon return. They lie her on her back, she's clearly very weak, and Jade pulls the others away before saying "She's not going to be any use. Any medicine she gets sent will be a waste of money sponsors could use to help us. I'm going to make it quick for her."

Again there are no arguments to her authority, and she heads back and leans over Cleo, kissing her full on the lips, and lingering, playing for sponsors if ever anyone did, before jabbing a knife into her neck and grinning as her eyes roll back.

The video when confirms what I had thought, Shayla had spoken back to Jade and received some good punches in return, before Jade torturously slices her arm, Shayla managing to get away by biting Jade's face, just buying enough time to grab a couple of arrows and her bow. Jade doesn't attempt to follow, except with an evil glare into the trees her former ally ran through.

I am forced to relieve the horrific events of the fifth day…seeing Tamla's happiness after receiving the medicine is difficult now I know what is coming. I have to sit through my own despair, both after Tamla dies and as Shayla lies there paralyzed.

I see Amelia suddenly come face to face with the bear mutt and die with one powerful swipe of a paw, and my flight from the bear and smoke, before my reunion with Fern. While I have to choke back tears, I also can't help a little smile at seeing her face again, and at our initial bickering before the moment I hand her my knife.

Next follows a lot of highlights of me and Fern which I find surprisingly easy to watch, almost managing to block what I know will happen as I relieve some good memories. They are interspersed with several incidents I missed- I see Perrin almost sliced in two by Grove's axe blow, as the big district seven boy ambushes the career, who was collecting firewood.

I see Cinnamon and Coulette making an alliance, which seems very friendly until the district eleven girl is betrayed by her younger ally, Coulette literally stabbing her in the back.

The following few days were light on deaths, so the highlights concentrate mainly on me and Fern, and it's getting harder to cope with now- so I'm actually relieved when Varro's death is brought up, after an epic fight with Jade which he had initiated. It is clearly edited down to a couple of minutes, but eventually Jade flips him onto his back and rams her long knife through his eye and into his brain.

Our fireball ordeal looks horrific, the memory of it vivid but the details hazy at the same time, before I try to prepare for what I know is coming. In the end I do have to glance down as Jade kills Fern, looking back to the screen in time to see the surprisingly stealthy Grove lunge out of a bush and cleave Jade's skull open.

Grove is next to meet his demise, triggering a clever tripwire set up by Coulette that swings a rock into the back of his head, knocking him out and allowing Coulette to kill him while he is unconscious.

I wonder, as I watch myself struggle to cope after Fern's death, if the reason the crowds can cheer such a pitiful victor, with so much crying and moping, is the fact that I managed to overcome all that to kill and win. Yep, I decide, I'm sure they're pleased that I unleashed my inner murderer in the end, that's what they're really after.

They show my flight, and that of Jeremiah and Coulette, from the quicksand and bear and rat mutts, before the feast is skipped over quickly to reach the conclusion- Jeremiah tracking down Coulette and brutally and stabbing her to death after she had almost managed to get him as he approached her apparently helpless injured form.

I find him shortly after, and the final battle is shown in full. I involuntarily feel the area of my scar as I watch him injure me before grimly staring the screen down as I kill him, sickened by the crowd's almost delirious cheers.

And with that it's over. And it's significantly decreased my desire to talk about it, which was hardly high as it was, but I know I'm about to have to.

The interview goes on for what seems like hours. Caesar asks me about the easier stuff first; my thoughts on the arena, what my plans were at various points, the first feast. I praise the quality of the gamemakers' tree-light traps and the muttations, describe my tiredness in the later stages, thank my sponsors for the various gifts I received…

Then we get to the meatier stuff.

"You seemed to function quite well on your own early on," Caesar says, "but you still seemed very pleased to find an ally in your district partner, although the circumstances could have been better."

"I was," I say, pausing for a second to try and ensure I'm composed. "I mean, it's always better to have someone watching your back and I genuinely trusted Tamla. Plus I had been worrying about her, and felt better being able to watch out for her too. I suppose I always knew deep down she would have to die for me to win, but you don't let yourself think about that in there, or at least you try not to."

"Tamla was quite badly injured when you found her," he continues, "but she recovered with your help and that of your sponsors. It must have been a real kick in the teeth to lose her so soon after that. You must have been very angry. Did you blame yourself?"

"I did a bit," I admit, "I should have made sure one of us was keeping watch. But you're right, mainly I was angry."

"Which brings us to your showdown with Shayla," he says. "Tell us what happened."

"I was angry," I say. "Having someone to blame gave me something to do, some purpose to stop me dwelling on what had happened. I was lucky I found her and that she was injured, but once I'd hit her I…I just didn't deal with what I'd done very well. If I'd done the same to Jeremiah or Coulette at the end, then I'd have finished them. I was always in it to win…but never to make anyone suffer like that. It was the first time I'd killed and I didn't deal with it well, but being in there for a couple of weeks toughened me up a bit." I didn't like the last bit, making it sound like being able to kill more easily was a good thing, but knew I couldn't come across as too blood-shy.

"So then," continues Caesar, "you found yourself alone again, but not for long. On the seventh day you had a very eventful morning, didn't you?"

"Definitely," I reply, "I suppose I was just lucky I ran into Fern and not someone more hostile. Between the muttation and the gas I was so panicked that I wasn't really paying attention to what was in front of me."

"That encounter certainly showed you she wasn't as vulnerable as she appeared, didn't it?"

I nod. "My throat was sore for quite a while."

"How important do you think it was to your winning that you met Fern at that point?" Caesar asks.

I want to yell at him to not say her name, but manage to keep my emotions in check. "Vital," I say. "Without her I wouldn't have had the same sense of purpose. I wasn't in the best place in my head after what had happened with Tamla and Shayla and having someone else to talk to gave me some focus."

"You met her on the eighth day," states Caesar, "and that was the start of a fairly quiet week or so for the pair of you."

I nod. "Apart from the lightning trees we didn't really come across much danger for a while."

"Which gave you plenty of time with each other," he says with a crooked eyebrow. "There was a fair bit of snapping and some tension between you initially, but you grew very close very quickly, didn't you."

My voice is unable to hide the lump in my throat as I reply quietly. "We did. She did a lot for me in there, I owe her my life. And…and I just loved being around her."

I find myself wondering how much detail Caesar is going to go into regarding our relationship, even as half a tear fights its way free from the corner of my eye. The look in his eyes makes me think he has noticed. It seems genuinely sympathetic, which surprises me, if only a little. He doesn't actually seem that bad for a Capitol person, in the interviews at least. Sometimes I wonder how much of him is an act.

His next question interrupts my thoughts. "Your arm was healed, you'd found a safe hole to sleep in and your relationship with Fern was blossoming. But you always knew it would get busy again, how did you cope with the anticipation?"

"I tried to focus on Fern," I reply honestly. "It was pointless to make plans, as it usually is in the arena. We just decided to wait and react."

"You almost had to react on the thirteenth night," he continues, "but Jade and Varro didn't discover you."

"Thankfully," I interject. "I'm still not sure quite how neither of them won, they were such dangerous opponents."

"The most dangerous?" he asks.

"I think so," I nod, "along with Grove. And I only saw her briefly in the arena, but Coulette was obviously very dangerous too."

"Would you say you were lucky then," he counters, "meeting Jeremiah at the end?"

"I don't think so. When it came down to it he was a very skilled fighter. If there was a reason I was lucky, it was that I didn't hate him. I don't think I could have fought with the same control against Jade if she had survived."

"How did you feel about the events of day fifteen?" he asks. "You were obviously devastated at Fern's death, as you clearly cared very much for her, despite never losing sight of the fact it was a doomed relationship. But what about Grove killing Jade and then sparing you?"

I'm grateful for a question at the end that actually requires thinking about, because I can barely stand him talking about Fern. "I…at the time I didn't really think about it, I didn't think about anything. I suppose in hindsight I'm very thankful to Grove. I hope his family are proud of the mercy he showed me as much as the skilled warrior he showed himself to be."

"There was no regret you hadn't got to fight Jade yourself?"

"No," I state simply. "She was dead, that was the most important thing. I don't know how I could have beaten her in a fight, it was better she died by any means necessary. For my chances…" I feel he is expecting more, about Fern, but I can't do it, and thankfully am not pressed.

"Well Rory," he says after a weighty silence. "That is almost the end. You provided us with a different journey to many Victors, but I know that audience grew very fond of you. You were a worthy winner."

"Thank you," I say, before trying to end on high as far as President Snow will be concerned. "I would like to thank everyone for their support. I am very proud to be their Victor and hope they enjoyed the forty-ninth Hunger Games."

A cheer echoes around the room as I am lead over and crowned by President Snow.

"A good show," he whispers in a deadly low voice as he crowns me. "You had best keep it up."

I simply nod at him, before lowering my head in a half-bow.

He walks away and before I know it I am back in the district 8 quarters, where Woof is waiting. "Well done," he says brusquely. "Get some rest, you'll be headed back home tomorrow morning."

"I…thank you, I guess," I stutter. "I don't know how I would have got through this without your help."

"Ah piss off," he growls at me, "don't go getting sentimental."

I do as he says, heading into my room, managing to hide the smallest of half smiles that his reaction brings. I feel guilty at it as I lie on my bed, I still feel so raw from the loss of Fern, I shouldn't be able to feel anything but pain. The pain is there though, constant. I want to see her just one more time, not that her face isn't burned into my brain forever, I just want to apologise to her, tell her I love her. But I'll never be able to do that. How can I live like that?

'You promised her' my brain prompts me. I recall the conversation like it was seconds ago. I promised her four things. One is already done- I won. A second is a given, nothing could ever make me forget anything about her. The third will be simple enough, if painful, I can speak with her family on the Victory Tour. The fourth though… "carry on with your life" she had asked from me. I will carry on living, but I know that's not what she meant, she meant a life, a real life, not just an existence.

I will not stain the memories by breaking my promise to her. I owe her that much. I need to have a proper life. That means laughing, being happy sometimes. She wouldn't want me to spend all my time depressed, she was far to selfless for that.

I sigh. Maybe it will be easier once I see my family again, but right now winning the Hunger Games seems like a minor challenge compared to keeping my word.


	27. Day 27- Return Home

**Day 27- Return Home**

It has been just about a month since the reaping, though I think more has happened in those thirty-odd days than in the rest of my eighteen years put together. My life will never be the same again, but it doesn't have to be over. As I travel back towards District 8 on the train I feel a warm swell inside me. I'm going to see my family again. Whoever thought that would happen when I was reaped- despite all my family's reassuring words at the time I am that they were as sure I was going to die as I was. Twenty-three other teenagers weren't so lucky.

It's still not easy to shake the thought that being a victor isn't really winning at all, but just a different type of losing. Instead of paying with my life, I pay with freedom, happiness, any hope at normality. I also have to deal with the sickening acting I had to put on during my post-games interview, and will have to again for the Victory Tour.

My thoughts for the remainder of the train journey are as negative as they have been for the most part since the Games ended, but that all changes when I pull into district 8. Hurrying off the train, I raise a genuine smile as I see my family waiting for me and hurry into their arms.

Whenever I have tried to imagine their faces recently, all I've been able to see are the faces of the victims of the Games, but actually seeing them, being able to speak to them, touch them, forces everything else from my mind. Kay breaks down into hysterical tears, which don't stop until we've reached the Victor's village. My parents say little, but little is needed. The serious stuff will keep for a short while at least. For now all I hear is "We love you", and I say it back, so many times.

Mum, dad and Kay have already moved into the Victor's Village that morning. I can't help but smile as I enter, there are benefits to winning and this is certainly one. Kay is so happy that I can't help but join her when she smiles.

We eat well, and mum and dad do brilliantly at finding stuff to talk about without letting the conversation drift to the Games, telling me all the mundane happenings in the district, which I have never been happier to hear.

Eventually Kay is sent off to bed, and I decide to put an end to the furtive glances my parents keep shooting me. I sit them down and we talk about the Games. It helps, which surprises me, but it really does. They are proud of me, not for winning, or killing, or even surviving, but for the way I've handled the trauma and especially for the promises I made to Fern.


	28. Epilogue- Years Later

**Epilogue- Years later**

Time passes. There are good days. There are bad days. After six months I manage to endure the victory tour. I fulfil my third promise to Fern, both crushed by how her death has devastated her family and a little gratified that they don't blame me at all, but thank me for all I did for her.

Returning to district 8 I try to work out what my future holds, but only come up with the last horror of the Games that lies in my future and not my past- mentoring future district 8 tributes. The Capitol will not allow me a job, so I spend a lot time with nothing to do, which isn't good for my mental state. Neither are the 50th Hunger Games. The twist of the Quarter Quell is that twice as many tributes are reaped, so Woof and I each mentor two tributes. Mine especially will be forever imprinted in my mind. A tough but pleasant sixteen year-old boy called Gray, who I think might have just half a chance is killed in the bloodbath, while the girl, a sweet little thirteen year-old called Elise, manages to escape initially, only to die later on the first day, stabbed through the eyes by a plant muttation.

I sink into a depression after that, but Woof, Kay, mum and dad eventually get me out of it. The next six years after that are the hardest, still struggling yearly with my tributes being killed, none getting close to winning, always filled with the fear Kay will be reaped. But when the reaping passes her by a weight is lifted, on her and my parents too.

Woof turns out to be right. It's a slow process but the pain starts to ease. I find myself able to feel less guilty about Shayla, remember Fern happily, concentrating all my negative thoughts to the Capitol.

I try to move on from Fern, as she wanted, but never manage it. I never marry or have a family of my own. But Kay does, her husband Matthias becomes a good friend of mine, while my little niece, Layla and later nephew, Coady become the main reason for my smiles. I never recover fully, how could I? There are bouts of depression, nightmares, fits of anger and guilt, but I always come back from them. I never turn to alcohol and manage to find ways to occupy my time to keep myself distracted. After drawing, writing and carving fail I fall into old ways, practising with my staff a lot, but that ends when I become unable to stop seeing myself killing Jeremiah. Eventually I find my peace in craftsmanship. I make everything we need and more we don't, all from scratch, which takes plenty of time, which is great. I make cots for Layla and Coady, toys for them, clothes for everyone, household items to replace or duplicate everything that came with the house.

One day, years and years later. Just before my thirtieth birthday in fact, I suddenly realise that I have kept my final promise to Fern and allow myself a little smile. Life goes on as long as you are alive, it's the job of the living to make it worthwhile. Because otherwise, what have we got?

_Rory Jordan was killed in the Victor's Purge after the 75__th__ Hunger Games. His parents had already died of natural causes. He was survived by his sister, brother-in-law, niece and nephew._

_Rory Jordan_

_Victor of the 49__th__ Hunger Games._

_Loving brother, son and uncle._

_R.I.P._


End file.
